Erik's Prisoner
by dreamysherry
Summary: Out of curiosity, Erik captures and brings home a young army officer. Curiosity soon turns into desire. Erik is, as always, determined to get what he wants.
1. Chapter 1

Erik's prisoner

Out of curiosity, Erik captures and brings home a young army officer. Curiosity soon turns into desire. Erik is, as always, determined to get what he wants.

**Disclaimer: **I do not have the pleasure of owning Phantom of the Opera.

Chapter One

Standing in front of the Daae mausoleum, Erik idly looked at the dead bodies scattered around in the cemetery of St. Isidore. They were mostly those of Parisian civilians and National Guard troops, as the bloody reprisal from the government began against the Commune and its sympathizers. There were, however, a few that belonged to the government troops. Judging from the speed of the retaliation, there would not be many more casualties from the government side. The Commune was now a lost cause.

_What a convenient place to die._ Erik was about to turn around to return to his underground home, when he noticed a stir below a dead body. "André?" A confused sound followed the move. What he assumed to be a dead body was still alive, despite the blood smudged uniform. "No… André … No… why? It should have been me."

Erik observed the owner of a muffled sob with keen interest. The voice did not sound like that of a man. Had it not been for the short hair cut and flat chest, he would have thought that the young man of medium height was, in fact, a woman, wrapped in an officer's uniform; a beautiful woman, for that matter. The next action that the young man took caught Erik by surprise; he was kissing the lips of a dead soldier.

_So they were lovers. An officer and a foot soldier... lovers… a forbidden love. _The young man intrigued Erik. He considered kidnapping the stranger to satisfy his curiosity. It didn't seem like a bad idea. After all, a lone officer in the streets of Paris could be an easy target for the angry, grieving Parisians. They could both benefit from the arrangement.

"I would not advise it," Erik finally spoke, seeing his potential captive dragging the dead body along the ground. "You better not be seen here for long. Get back to your unit if you value your life."

The young man looked around himself before noticing a tall figure, who stood just a few feet in front of him.

"I do not value my life," he answered, continuing his futile efforts. "I cannot leave my friend here, all alone."

Erik briefly contemplated the fact that the young officer now sounded like a man. _A trained voice._ He concluded with amusement. _A man who trained his voice to sound like a man? _

"Your _lover_ died while trying to protect you. Surely you do not want to insult his sacrifice," Erik countered.

"You are armed," the young man stated, noticing Erik's sword for the first time. "Why did you not attack me? We are all enemies of you, Parisians."

"I am above a petty alliance to any political side," Erik replied with a sarcastic smile. "Seeing that you will not part with that body, I have a proposal for you. I will let your lover rest in one of these mausoleums. You can come back and visit him when things are settled between the government and the citizens of Paris."

"What do you want from me in return?"

"You will be my captive till I want to release you. You will remain silent about your captivity after your release."

The young man seemed to consider Erik's offer. Erik saw a brief moment of hesitation, followed by a look of resignation and tiredness. He finally made his reply. "Will you remain silent about whatever you learn about me during my confinement?"

Their gazes became locked, each party trying to see whether the other could be trusted to keep an agreement.

"I will," Erik replied simply.

"Then I consent."

"What is your name?" Erik asked, retrieving the lifeless body from the young man's hands and carrying it in his arms.

"Oscar… Oscar Ferré."

Back in his lair, Erik removed the blind folds from Oscar, who had so far shown no resistance to becoming a prisoner of a total stranger. Oscar's eyes clearly showed that he could not care less whether he lived or died. They contained neither hostility nor fear. He didn't even seem to notice Erik's mask. Erik doubted very much that Oscar would remember the way to his underground home from the cemetery. Still, blind folding him was a useful way of reminding him that he was now a captive. It seemed a pointless exercise to engage any conversation with someone who showed no interest in his surroundings. Erik led Oscar direct to the guest bedroom and left him there. By the time Erik came back with a glass of water and clean clothes, Oscar had fallen into a deep sleep, the right side of his face resting on the blood-strained, light blue tunic of André.

Erik pulled a chair near to the bed, to study the form of the sleeping Oscar. He wondered how on earth Oscar had managed to command his men. Surely, common soldiers would have despised effeminate men? It was also possible that Oscar was not even a man. Perhaps that was why he had demanded that Erik should remain silent about secrets that could be revealed during his imprisonment. It had been known that some women had managed to fool the army and fought as a common soldier, till their identity had been exposed. But the French army did not make a common soldier an officer without an identity check. Had Oscar been a woman, the deception could not have just involved Oscar; it would have been the scheme of his entire family. He could have not been a woman in any legal document.

After covering him with a blanket, Erik left the guest room to sit at his organ. He had not played it since the night of _Don Juan Triumphant_. However, the image of a young army officer kissing the lips of his dead lover stirred something deep inside him. Oscar's eyes revealed so much emotion within their short encounter; emotions that Erik could easily identify with. He had to express what he saw and tell the tragic story of a forbidden love and loss. His fingers masterfully moved across the ivory keys once again, filling his lair with music that spoke hopeless longing and cold, unfeeling despair.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Oscar lay in darkness, surrounded by a deathly silence. The room was lit by only one candle in the far corner. It was strangely comforting that she did not have to face the sun light. She gently caressed André's tunic, her cheeks hot with hushed tears. Her André was gone because of her weakness. Had she not been reluctant to shoot a civilian who was aiming his pistol at her, André would not have died while trying to shield her from the flying bullets. All her life, she had been trained to fight and kill. Yet, she failed to protect the one man that she truly cared for, all because she didn't want to fight against civilians; because she believed that the army existed to protect France and its citizens. There was no glory in slaughtering the rebels. Even so, it was a 'kill or be killed' situation. She had already given orders to her men to proceed with the attack, to protect them from being killed while lazily watching the desperate defence the Parisians put up. Her loyalty lied more with the men in her charge. Still, she found it impossible to bring herself to lead the attack. Instead, she lingered behind her unit, pretending to investigate the casualties of the enemies. When she saw the wounded civilian on the ground, using his last strength to fire his pistol, she should have shot him without delay. André had to pay for her indecision with his blood. She had failed herself. She had let him down. Yet, even now she did not wish to go back to her unit. She did not wish to give more orders to attack the heavily out-numbered enemy of the government. She felt completely burnt out and alone. She just missed her André terribly.

Oscar was the seventh daughter of General Ferré. By the time Oscar was born, the General was thoroughly determined to have a son; if his wife could not produce one, he was fully prepared to rectify her incompetence this time. At the time of Oscar's birth, her mother was only attended by a family doctor and a nanny, both of whom had been told to announce the arrival of a boy, no matter what the real sex of the baby was. When the new arrival turned out to be yet another disappointment, the General promptly achieved the silence of the two witnesses with ruthless but efficient threats. In his mind, he had no seventh daughter. Oscar was a son, which he had been denied thus far, and would, forever, remain that way.

The General, however, could not entirely erase from his mind the fact that Oscar was not quite a man. Cares had to be taken to safeguard his only son. Oscar's daily timetable for physical training was uncommonly harsh for a little child. Even her father wondered whether he himself would have been happy with such a grueling schedule at this young age. To his delight, Oscar never complained, always striving to improve her warfare skills. Her eyes sparkled with pride whenever the General gave his rare, brief approval of her efforts. She was not allowed to play with other boys except André, her personal servant and only friend. André attended fencing lessons and shooting practice with Oscar, as the General thought it wise to provide his son with a bodyguard that could be trusted. Oscar never questioned her father's demands. She thought her father knew what was best for her. She wanted nothing more than to grow up to be just like her father, to fight for the glory of France. Having André as a friend was more than enough for her. She had no time for silly children's games.

André followed Oscar everywhere like a shadow. When Oscar asked him why he did not chase the girls in his free time, he would simply smile and answer. "I love being with you, Oscar. You are very pretty and not daft like girls." Oscar would sulk, reminding André that he was talking to a boy. André would keep his smile, replying that boys could be pretty too, and he would not have Oscar any other way.

As Oscar grew older and began to realise that she was different from other boys, André's existence in her life was the only thing that kept her from falling into confusion and bitter loneliness. Oscar believed that André would love her as Oscar, regardless of her biological sex. She never told André about her secrets. She didn't let him know that she had to wear tight bandages around her chest at all times. She didn't tell him that her frequent outings with her father were for voice lessons. Legally, she was a male. Biologically, she was a female. Psychologically, she was neither a male nor a female. The world that divided an individual as either a man or a woman was a hostile place for her. But in the world where only Oscar and André resided, she could be herself and remain at ease.

When Oscar started her army career, André followed her into the army. Oscar could often hear whispers and sniggers behind her back. Within a few days, she found her André badly beaten and bruised. It was obvious to her that he had been defending her honour from other soldiers. André was not the type to start a fight, but he would not let anyone insult Oscar. She considered whipping those who attacked André as a disciplinary measure. Instead, she ordered all her men to stand still in line and asked them who was the strongest. She asked the chosen soldier what weapon he used best. Upon hearing him say "the sword," she challenged him to a duel in front of the stunned men. They watched silently the ensuing battle, which finished within a few minutes to their disappointment. The soldier obviously underestimated Oscar but it didn't matter to her. His sword was out of his reach and the blade of Oscar's sword held him against the neck.

"Are you happy with my command?" She asked calmly, before withdrawing her sword.

The soldier bowed before her and went back to his place in the line. From the looks of the men standing motionless in front of her, she knew that she had finally earned their respect. She dismissed her men and called André to follow her into her tent.

"You are beaten and bruised," she said with a frown.

"I know," he smiled. "I should have let you handle this."

"I can't bear seeing you hurt. I want to protect you, André. Not the other way around."

André pulled her into his arms and whispered into her ear, "It's OK, Oscar. I will always be beside you. That's where I belong."

Oscar kissed him on the forehead, hoping that the rest of the world would just banish, leaving the two of them alone.

* * *

A.N. The character Oscar is from a heroine named Oscar in a cartoon called 'Rose of Versailles'. As a child, I was fascinated by the character because it treaded the ambiguity between the maleness and the femaleness. She is a daughter of a French General who was desperate for a son and subsequently raised as a man to join the Royal Guard. André in the story is her childhood friend and a manservant. His devotion in the end moves her. After she fails to win the heart of a Swedish aristocrat who set his heart on the French queen, she marries him in secret on the eve of French revolution. They both perish in a battle field.

I thought it would make an interesting paring if she was born a century later and somehow met Erik. The whole fic started from the simple idea.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three 

Erik entered the guest room with tray in hand to see how his captive was doing. It was nearly mid-morning and he hadn't heard Oscar coming out the room. Erik found her sitting on the bed, wearing the clothes he had provided. She looked somewhat smaller and weaker in Erik's clothes.

"Where is my sword?" Oscar asked accusingly. She could not remember a time when she slept without her sword. _A soldier must live and die by his sword. _She would have been happier dying fighting. She should have died while fighting the Prussians. Her father would have been proud of her.

"You are my prisoner. As such, you are not allowed to keep any weapon. You were in no state to use that sword of yours yesterday, but I will not risk you using it ever against me."

Erik didn't think Oscar would attempt or manage to harm him. He was more worried about the possibility of Oscar harming herself.

"Are you any good?" Erik could not help but ask.

"My sword is not for decoration," she answered bitterly. "However, I gave my consent to be your prisoner. I would not have used it against you."

She looked up and noticed Erik's half mask for the first time. She didn't think much of why he was wearing it. It was likely that he had been a victim of a war. It seemed to make him look stern and almost unearthly from a certain angle. She liked the contrast between his left side and right side; it somewhat made him look unique.

Erik felt Oscar's gaze fixed upon his face. A familiar irritation came over him.

"Are you wondering what is behind the mask?" His tone began harsh but slightly softened towards the end. It was a good sign that Oscar was showing some interest in anything, even if it was his damned facade.

"No. I was thinking that it somewhat suited you," Oscar replied, her eyes still stubbornly focused on his face.

"Eat," Erik commanded, handing the food tray over to Oscar. "I will show you around when you finish."

"Are you going to just stand there while I eat?"

"Yes."

Realising that there was no room for argument, Oscar emptied the food plate and the glass of wine slowly but without protest. She found it bizarre that her body accepted the food. It simply felt wrong that life went on without André. She inhaled deeply, trying to shake off her thoughts about André. She was not used to showing her emotions to others. She could think of him when she was alone. This was not a good time to dwell on memories. Despite her struggle, she felt acute pain rising through her chest and stomach, followed by a lump in her throat. Her tears were falling down unreservedly. She could hear nearly-but-not-quite subdued sobs escaping her lips. She covered her face with her hands, wishing that her captor would go away and leave her to her own misery.

Erik didn't leave the room. Oscar looked unbearably alone at that moment. Erik could almost understand why André had thrown his life away for her, without a moment's hesitation. He felt jealous of Oscar's dead lover. Nobody would grieve for him the way Oscar grieved for her André. He very much doubted Christine would shed tears of despair for him. She would probably feel sad but relieved at the same time. No matter what Christine was, she was not loyal. As time passed, Erik slowly stopped pining for her; his passion had finally died. Recalling her acts of betrayal certainly helped the gradual shift of his feelings towards her. He came to the conclusion that she had done both of them a favour. He would have eventually become bored of her childlike charms anyway. Rarely one found lasting satisfaction in those one pursued to the brink of madness. The prize would almost always be disappointing in the end, although it was still better to have it than just to dream of it.

Since the break of the Franco-Prussian war and political upheavals that followed it, people stopped paying so much attention to his mask. They had too much on their plate to be curious about such things. Since death and injury became all too common, many people came to regard a mask as one way of hiding unappetising injuries. The fear of uncertain futures meant that the hold of petty moral concerns on Parisians had considerably weakened. Everyone tried to live for the day, and the trivial moral concerns didn't rank very high in the list of their priorities. With his obsession over Christine waning steadily and his physical needs remaining, he had no qualms about putting his skills of seduction to good use. He took willing sexual partners without hesitation. He didn't even have to remain in his underground lair. He could have lived a normal life, as normal as allowed in the times of a political turmoil, had he chosen to do so. Since he was no longer forced to live alone, he chose to live in solitude. The humanity, regardless of its acceptance of him, held little appeal to him. Christine had created the illusion that a normal life was all he had ever wanted. With her gone, his illusion was no more. He was no longer jealous of the creatures of day light. He was too good for them.

He sat next to Oscar, pulling her head gently to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. Oscar tried to pull herself away from him, feeling ashamed of what she was doing. She would not allow herself to be pitied by another. Erik only tightened his grip on Oscar.

"You don't have to be in control all the time. Just let it go," he said softly.

Taken aback by the contents of his words, Oscar stopped her struggle and looked up to find his eyes. She saw the look of understanding. It was just that, understanding; it was not a feeble, clumsy attempt to console someone in distress. All her resolve to keep her grief to herself left her completely. She buried her head into his chest and let herself freely mourn for her lost love.

When Oscar finally lifted her head up from his chest and managed to make a small smile appear on her tear stained face, Erik decided that she was ready for the tour of his home. He showed her various rooms in his lair, except his own room, which, he made clear, Oscar would keep away from. She seemed not to show much interest in anything, but Erik felt that Oscar at least understood what each room was for. He let her retire from his company till the evening, which she seemed to be grateful for. He had no idea what he wanted to do with Oscar in the long run. For now, Erik was happy just to observe her.

Oscar joined him in the living room later in the evening, as she had been told to do so. Erik was pleased to see that there was something akin to trust in her eyes. She seemed to make an ideal prisoner. She ate food when instructed and sat where he told her to. Erik wondered whether she would fall asleep on command. He was sure she would wake up on command. She seemed to be determined to show that she was keeping her side of the bargain. He was almost confident that she would not attempt to escape her imprisonment; she would willingly stay with him till he let her go.

"Do you not want to go back to the army?" Erik asked. Not that her answer would have made any difference.

"No," she replied. "I do not enjoy giving orders to shoot civilians, armed or not."

"Do you have no desire to avenge your lover's death?" Almost as soon as he asked, Erik regretted his careless remark. Oscar's eyes revealed a succession of painful emotions. Slowly she turned her gaze away from Erik. This time, however, she managed to hold herself together.

"I am to blame for his death," Oscar offered her answer after a long awkward silence. "To which fate do you propose I ought to condemn myself, other than wallowing in self-loathing?"

Another long silence ensued, neither party trying to break it. They sat opposite each other, Oscar lost in a world of despair, her head hung low, with Erik contemplating the lonely figure in front of him.

"Were you not afraid that I would hand you over to the Communards?" Erik spoke again, seeing that she became too comfortable in her silence.

Oscar lifted up her head, trying to take in Erik's words. It was a rather slow process but she could make out what she had been asked.

"Why should I? The worst thing they could do to me is to kill me. I doubt that they have time to torture me."

"What made you think that I wouldn't do that to you?"

"I couldn't see any intention of harm from your eyes. It was a risk that I had to take. The alternative would have been desertion."

Erik tried his best to stifle laughter but could not suppress it altogether. What he thought would be her prison had been, in fact, her sanctuary. She had no life to go back to. She owed him her life in more ways than one.

"Do you realise that you would need a darned good excuse when you rejoin your unit? How would you explain your absence, without revealing your stay here?"

"I will think of something," she replied nonchalantly. "My whole life could be regarded as a lie. One more lie wouldn't break me."

"Was it? Was your entire life just a lie; a pretence to convince the world that you are a man?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

Erik saw a flash of anger from Oscar's eyes and found himself lying on the floor before he could blink. The distance between them had been too close for him to quickly stop her from lashing out. She had lunged head first, knocking him off the coach and landing on top of him. She was now on her way to separate herself from him. Instinctively, his hands held down her head firmly to his chest, ignoring the pain on the back and making it difficult for her to breathe. Before she could react, he rolled her over roughly and positioned himself above her, his weight making it impossible for her to use her legs for further attack. As it dawned on him that the experience could have been exceedingly more painful without the generously-sized Persian rug beneath them, his shock rapidly turned into rage.

"You ungrateful little wretch," he growled, firmly grabbing her wrists with his hands.

"I give you a sanctuary away from your troubled, sorry life, and you attack me."

Oscar stared at him blankly. Confusion reigned. She had been angry but she had not been angry at him. Even if she had been, she should have known better than attacking him that way. His piercing eyes were searching for an answer. But she could not produce one. All she could think of was how beautiful his eyes looked in his fury.

"I…" Her mouth was quickly covered by furious lips. There was no gentleness in his kiss. By the time he broke off the kiss, she could feel her lips swollen. His grip on her wrists had been so tight that it was hurting badly. A sigh of satisfaction escaped her lips involuntarily. She found strange comfort from their physical contact, precisely because he had not left any room for her to initiate another strike. He didn't patronise her. He treated her like a man, even though he suspected the opposite to be true. She felt almost grateful.

"Don't try it ever again. Or I will make you wear a dress." Erik pulled himself up and helped her to rise with one hand.

"It won't happen again." She promised.

"Why did you do that?" The anger faded in his voice, replaced by curiosity.

"I don't really know. I guess I was infuriated." She answered truthfully and added. "I didn't mean to harm you. If I had, I would not have lunged at you. I don't wrestle like that. I use my opponents' weight against them when I engage in physical combat. I wouldn't tackle them to the ground."

"You should consider using that method more often. Not everyone moves as quickly as I do. You were fast. I can give you that," Erik chuckled, as his mood lightened.

"Why did you deny me the chance to explain myself earlier?"

"I was afraid that I would lose my chance to punish you," He replied causally. "You deserved it."

"You could have just beaten me up."

"I could have. That would have given me less satisfaction," he smirked, glancing at her lips. His tone instantly changed into that of concern. "Your lips are swollen."

"They will heal. They are the least of my worries."

Erik nodded absent-mindedly and ordered Oscar to retire to the bed. He needed to be alone and believed that she could do with more rest.

_It has been only a day and I already desire the strange creature._ He thought furiously. He had merely brought her to his home out of curiosity, nothing more. He had not seen anyone who intrigued him as much. He did not intend to sleep with her. He had grown out of the desire to play the games of seduction. He thought he would be just fine around Oscar. He was naïve. He should have seen the warning sign when his music suddenly returned to him. He should have kept his distance. Instead, he consoled her, talked to her and kissed her. But it wasn't the kiss that unsettled him. The kiss was the only convincing way of letting her know that he was infuriated with her insolence, without loosening his physical grip on her. He was furious and he had to let her know it there and then. But was that the only reason? He was no longer sure about his motive. When he had pinned her down beneath his weight, he had seen a desire in her eyes. It only lasted a split second but it was unmistakably there. Her involuntary sigh after their kiss only confirmed his suspicion. Seeing her bruised lips had made him think of nothing else but to plant a gentle kiss on them and take her as his own. He wanted to have Oscar, regardless of her sex. Whether it was love or lust, which he'd rather hoped to be lust for the sake of uncomplicated life, it became painfully clear to him that he wanted her more than anything. Since he could do nothing to suppress his desire, the only option left for him was to make her want him.

Oscar touched her lips with her fingers, to feel the swelling. She remembered that strange sensation when she had been kissed in such an unforgiving manner. It was a deeply intoxicating experience. Had André kissed her in the same manner, she would have given in to her desire, a desire she was not allowed to express. André never demanded anything from her, always giving. She was his whole world. And that made her afraid, afraid of disillusioning him. She had never doubted that he might not always love her. What she was less certain of was whether he would have desired her, had she revealed the truth about herself. However unusual they were, there had been opportunities for them to spend their nights in the same bed. Even though André never told her, she knew he wanted her. It was so blatantly obvious but she did nothing about it, knowing André could not openly express his wishes. Her selfish fear had kept him from truth; a truth that might have set him free. She should have pushed him away from her. He could have found happiness with another man. Her life was impossible and she let André live in hope, because she couldn't bear to be completely alone. She needed André to make her life bearable.

Tears fell down again as she recalled the image of André on top of her, his eyes closed and his lips resting on her neck. The warmth of his body had already deserted him but he still looked the gentle André she had known and always loved. She could not believe how much she had been crying. Since her father told her that boys did not cry, she had not shed a single tear till André's death. She had not cried, even when her mother died. She regarded death simply as a course of nature. Every living thing must die once. Tears were for the living; nothing more than an expression of self-pity. They meant nothing for the dead. Death was like a dreamless sleep; it could not hurt the dead. André had gone and no amount of tears would bring him back. Yet, her emotions refused to listen to the voice of Reason. Years of constrained feelings flooded her mercilessly. Oscar had never been a crying wreck. She certainly did not think André would have liked to see her like this. She wished she could smile at André's memory. She wanted to celebrate his life, the precious bond that they had shared. Despite her wishes, she could only think of her failures regarding André; things that she could and should have done differently. That there would be no second chance to remedy her faults made his death even more unbearable.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

The next six days, Erik deliberately avoided conversing with Oscar. He needed a workable plan before he spent time with her. Since Oscar didn't have much to do, she would be forced to spend most of her time reflecting on André and her life. Although that wasn't exactly an appealing prospect, he decided that she would need that time alone to help get the grief out of her system. He only went into her room to inform her that it was time to get up or to have a meal. She spent most of her time in the guest bed room with a large, comfortable bathroom attached to it, since he never told her otherwise. Erik just hoped that she would at least desire his company between her wretched indulgence in her sorrow. By the end of the sixth night, however, his patience was wearing thin. It was time for a change.

Oscar lay still on the bed, her eyes tightly closed. She had wondered why her captor would no longer want to ask her questions about her life. He seemed to avoid her company since their first kiss. As much as she was intrigued by him, she was half relieved by the distance he deliberately imposed on them. The man seemed to have a strange effect on her. She could not lie to him. Even though she had realised that she could not hide her secret from him for long, she wanted things to stay as they were, at least for a while. She liked the current state of ambiguity between them; she didn't know how to act if he started to treat her as a woman. On the whole, she decided that she liked him. She could have found him even fascinating, had she not been so consumed by guilt and sadness. His eyes reminded her of a lone beast. He was certainly a dangerous man. Had they met under different circumstances, he might have made a fine enemy, an enemy she could have respected but would have fought regardless.

Perplexing as it was, Oscar trusted Erik; she believed that he would keep his promise. Trust rarely came to her. The only person she could rely on had been André. She regarded people in general as either too weak to keep a confidence or disloyal. Her father, for instance, was certainly not weak, but he would have used what was revealed to him in confidence for his own gain. She thought it always better to side with caution than to share secrets with others. She believed they could always turn her faith against her. Not necessarily because they meant harm, but mainly because they were weak. They could betray her, even convincing themselves that it might help. In Erik, Oscar saw the strength of character, a necessary requirement to earn her trust. The unmistakable pride in his eyes, when he gave his word, made the requirements complete.

Tired of her endless trail of thought, she wished she could sleep. She was not used to idle musing, and she had too much of it recently. Perhaps in her sleep, she could hear André laughing a happy laugh once again. As though responding to her wishes, Erik began to play the organ. The first movement began slowly and softly. The soothing, calming tune was gently caressing her tired mind, providing the comfort it so badly needed. She was drifting away to sleep when the music suddenly grew darker, its expression alternating between violent anger and heart-rending anguish. _He knows pain. He had lived despair. _ She thought fleetingly, wondering why she was not disappointed that she had become fully conscious. She let herself drown into his music. She was living her grief once again, yet strangely comforted by the fact that she was no longer completely alone in her misery. The tone of the music changed once again, this time quietly and craftily. Slowly pain and torment gave way to desperate longing and wild, raw passion. Hardly knowing what she was doing, Oscar got up from the bed and moved towards the source of the music.

From the corner of his eye, Erik saw Oscar approaching him. He smiled to himself, pretending not to have noticed. He had figured out that Oscar would respond better to untamed, primal craving than to romantic approach. Whatever she was, Erik had no doubt that she had been raised as a man. Roses, sweet words and dreamy music were for courting women. He needed a totally different approach for Oscar; she was not Christine, however heartbroken. Giving her comfort was not enough to make her desire him, when she was mourning for a man and blamed herself for his death. He did not expect that she would love him. He didn't even want her to. After Christine, he no longer yearned for love. What he truly needed and still craved for was physical comfort and satisfaction. If Oscar was anything like him, she would come willingly.

Only when her hesitant hand touched his arm, he acknowledged her presence.  
"What do you want?" he asked, his fingers reluctantly leaving the keyboard, fearing that the magic might disappear. It was, however, important that he should study her reaction to his music. As his eyes stared into hers, he saw that sheer animalistic desire; that flame of bare lust. He knew she felt exactly what he had wanted her to.

She withdrew her hand and looked at it as though questioning its sanity. She slowly turned away but he wasn't prepared to let her go without an explanation. He rose from the bench and soon stood directly in front of her, blocking her retreat.

"Why did you come?" he asked again, his one hand lifting her chin, with the other placed on her shoulder.  
"Was that… what you just played… for me?" she asked, her voice slightly unsure.  
"Did it surprise you that I wanted you?" Erik didn't want to hide his intention from her. He was rather pleased that he didn't have to.

Oscar thought she recognised the look in his eyes. She had seen it before, though never this intense. It had not been always possible to excuse herself from attending the parties that the rich and powerful threw to entertain themselves. Her father had wanted her to make useful associations. She had often found herself the object of not-so-subtle stares, mostly from women but sometimes from men. Afterwards, André would tease her about these incidents, till he was absolutely sure Oscar wasn't interested in returning the favour. However flattering the attentions were, she understood that they were not for her; they were for an Oscar that did not really exist, an Oscar who was a complete male.

"You want me? Don't you care whether I am a male or a female?"  
"It will not make the slightest difference to my desire."  
"Can you promise me that you would _never _treat me as a woman?"  
Erik was now certain that Oscar was female as he had suspected. It took him only a few seconds to understand what exactly she meant by that request.  
"You have my word."  
"Then you have me."

With sleeping Oscar tucked under his arm, Erik marvelled at how comfortable and warm it felt to have her naked body pressed against his. He had never felt so completely satisfied after sex; he had never felt himself so unreservedly craved by another. Oscar was wild, passionate and intoxicating. Despite her lack of experience, she instinctively knew how to move her body, faithfully responding to Erik's needs. Her body wasn't just a fighting machine; it understood how to create and respond to pleasure. Erik smiled, recalling the wave of exhilarating sensations that went through him during their physical intimacy. There was no way that he could let her go anytime soon.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Erik's eyes flickered open. The warning bells were going off furiously. Someone was paying him a visit. He saw Oscar trying to get up and immediately hissed, "Stay where you are and don't move a muscle."

Quickly surveying the room, Erik remembered that their clothes were scattered around his lair. Cursing the unwelcome visitor, he silently went about gathering them and transforming himself into the graceful phantom. He finally let himself relax when he heard Nadir's desperate voice coming from one of the torture chambers. He leisurely returned to the guest room to check upon Oscar. Erik swallowed his laugh at the sight that greeted him. Oscar's blue eyes seemed curious but she wouldn't open her mouth. She lay on the bed, exactly as he left her. She hadn't even tried to cover the side of her body that was exposed to the cold air. She really was following his command to his every letter.

"Speak if you must," he said.

"You have a guest?" she asked, not daring to get up.

Erik pulled the blanket up to cover her properly and put the roughly piled clothes on the corner of the bed.

"Yes, an old acquaintance of mine. He will not stay long."

Opening the secret door to the vault, Erik pondered the reason for the unexpected visit.

"You and your torture chambers," Nadir grumbled, as he was let out.

"I am surprised that you ended up there again, Nadir," Erik replied, making no effort to hide his amusement. "To think that you were a police chief…"

"Only a twisted mind such as yours could get used to the complexity of the maze," Nadir snapped. "But that is not the point. I came here to do you a favour. The least you could do was to let me out as quickly as you could."

"You caught me at a bad time," Erik answered casually. "I had no need for my conscience."

Nadir shook his head in annoyance. He couldn't, for the life of him, understand why he cared for Erik; why he had decided to become this arrogant, self-serving man's conscience, instead of leaving him rotting in Hell.

"How you exaggerate your plight," Erik mocked, as though he had read Nadir's thoughts. "You know the workings of that chamber perfectly well. Do not tell me you were going mad inside that little play room."

After throwing an icy glance, Nadir walked to the living room and seated himself on the long couch, putting down a package he had with him on the floor.

"I brought you some things that you might need," Nadir said, seeing Erik showing interest in the bundle.

"Wasn't it you who insisted that I should go out more often? I was finally getting used to the idea of not relying on others for my supplies."

"Things are not good outside, Erik," Nadir sighed. "The soldiers are everywhere and they are hell-bent on executing all the Communards and arresting any Commune sympathisers."

"I did not realise I was a Commune sympathiser."

"They are not capturing people solely on evidence. Mere suspicion is enough to warrant an arrest and a summary trial. Every Parisian is guilty till proven innocent. I am afraid that your mask will arouse a suspicion. I do not trust your temper when being confronted."

_So, the things had gone back to the old ways. I would, once again, be forced to hide myself in the shadow._ Erik could not help but laugh a bitter laugh. Any other time, he would not have allowed mere soldiers to stop him from whatever he wanted to do. This time, however, he had Oscar; she was under his protection and in his lair. He had to be careful. He would have to avoid the daylight once again.

"Just till this madness slows down, Erik. Let me help you for a while."

Erik refrained from his urge to ridicule this suggestion. To think that he was incapable of getting his own supplies showed how naïve Nadir was; how little he knew about Erik's power that had grown after losing Christine and his interests in the affairs of his opera house. He had truly become the master of darkness; he could easily create illusions that made people hear things – hear anything. He had total control of any man-made light as soon as the sun lost its power to block the view of the moon and stars from human eyes. The soldiers, even with their guns and advantage in numbers, were simply no threat to him. Erik knew many shops in Paris that he could use in the late evening. Still, Nadir could provide him with useful outside information. Despite his choice to remain in solitude, he needed to keep an eye on humanity and its mess, if for nothing else, to despise and laugh at them. Nadir's connection to the French police was a useful one. By letting Nadir believe that he became the eyes of Erik, he could get out more information. That thought rather pleased him.

"As much as it pains me, I accept your proposal," Erik said in a tone that suggested it was he who was doing Nadir a favour. "Is there any outside news that might interest me?"

"An army officer went missing in your vicinity. He was last seen near the cemetery of St. Isidore."

Erik was rather surprised to hear that Oscar's disappearance made worthwhile news but he wasn't about to reveal to Nadir his interests in that particular topic. "I would have thought that the government troops incurred some casualties."

"They couldn't find his body. They suspect that Lieutenant Ferré had been kidnapped by the Commune sympathisers."

"I very much doubt that they have any strength left to waste on kidnapping a mere army officer."

"He is not just an army officer, Erik," Nadir smirked. It always pleased him when he knew something Erik didn't. "He is the only son of General Ferré who has continually supported the government's hard-line policies against the Commune."

Oscar found comfort in the sensation of soft bed linen under her bruised and still slightly sore body. She had never slept without clothes before. Her secret had to be carefully hidden at all times. It felt liberating not to have to worry about hiding her shame. Her captor transformed the nature of her nakedness; it was no longer the source of humiliation. It became the means of knowledge that had been denied thus far. She now understood the secret of sex, the thought of which made her feel somewhat bemused. That it was painful didn't surprise her. She had always known that nothing worthwhile ever came without pain. If anything, she was slightly disappointed that the pain was so mild; it presented no challenge for her. The surprise lay in the pleasure that came soon afterwards. It was pleasure like no other, so intense and so blinding. She understood, for the first time, why her father despised women he had conquered; he could not have forgiven them for making him want to succumb to a power greater than himself. The women beneath him were just as powerful and vulnerable as he was at that moment of pure abandonment, only through which he could reach the height of physical pleasure. The concept of equality never sat well with her father. Unlike him, she did not find submission humiliating. Her father had demanded total submission from her, and she was used to giving it. The experience of physical love therefore had an opposite effect on her; it made her feel at ease with her body. There was nothing especially wrong with it. She had been right all along; it was the world that was at fault, not Oscar.

Lying alone without the protection of her clothes, however, made her feel vulnerable. She considered dressing herself, but decided against it. He had commanded her not to move and had not yet released her. She had been a soldier. Her life had been about following the call of duty and obligation. Obeying commands from her father or senior officers had not always been easy, but it gave her a sense of satisfaction and achievement. Since she had agreed to be his prisoner, she made it her duty to comply with his orders. It gave her troubled life some semblance of familiarity and purpose. It prevented her from giving into despair.

Wherever she was, she felt comfortable with the ever lasting darkness. It created an illusion that the night never ended. Time was no longer an element that governed human affairs. Not for her, anyway. Rather it was her captor that created and controlled the flow of time in her confinement. She never had to wonder what time it was. He would tell her when it was time for her to do anything. Had there been an after-life, she would have thought this was it. The life she had led became irrelevant here, except to satisfy his curiosity. The sunlight would never reach this place, leaving it to be governed solely by the law of its creator and master. Social conventions, political conflicts and daily human struggles all meant nothing here. Even her father could not command her any longer. She had always known that there was something really comforting about death, and now she knew why. But if death were another form of life, she would need to learn how to live it.

She stopped crying for André. Since her heart stubbornly refused to believe that there was nothing after life, she decided that she would allow for the possibilities of souls. Since she could not feel the presence of his, she reckoned that his soul now resided in her body. She and André were now one and could never be separated from each other. Their souls had become merged into one. She no longer wanted to die; André should not experience another death in such a short period of time. He would experience exactly what she would. She felt she was ready to live once again.

Oscar's eyes silently followed Erik's movement, till she could not trace him without turning around.

"It is still early in the morning," he said, running his fingers down her back and smiling at the soft sigh that escaped her lips. "Go back to sleep."

She closed her eyes, feeling the comforting warmth radiating from the arms wrapped around her. Within a few minutes, she was asleep again. The only words that mattered here were his. Life was simple and uncomplicated.


	7. Chapter 7

A.N. I've finally got myself a beta reader and have a feeling that I asked the right person. She has been very supportive and helpful. Thank you, dark-hearted rose. 

Thank you also to everyone who has reviewed. I will try to make future chapters longer for you guys. But it was rather difficult to increase the length of this chapter. 

* * *

Chapter Seven

After successfully sendingher back to sleep, Erik elected to spend his morning idly, next to Oscar. Brushing her short, dark brown hair tentatively with his long fingers, he inhaled her scent, a smell of musk rose with a hint of cinnamon, slightly mingled with his own sweat. He wanted to wake up to that smell each and every morning. He wanted to wake up to her firm and well-toned body, with the small breasts that had never been given a chance to develop fully. Erik tried to remember the scent of his past lovers, but could not. Neither could he remember their sensual shapes. He had never stayed long enough to find out. He had always left their beds as soon as he could collect himself. He had been desperate to go back to his own place. That he could not bring them where he felt truly comfortable, even though it was due to his reluctance to reveal anything of him, always remained an obstacle to emotional proximity after physical intimacy. 

The fact that Oscar smelled something of himself gave him an impression that she was his; an illusion only strengthened by the sight of the purple bruises he had been solely responsible for. The thought made him smile, which quickly faded as a part of him, the sensible part, scorned and mocked his tender feelings towards Oscar. Falling in love was a risk that he did not particularly welcome. He could only suppress his murderous urge towards the human race through distancing himself from them, regarding his own species so beneath him that they did not even deserve his wrath. When Nadir made him promise that he would never kill except in self-defence, he knew that keeping a distance from his own species was the only way he could keep the promise. The whole idea of living underground was truly an ingenious one; except that it didn't prevent him from yearning after a girl. He understood that his madness and despair had been brought on by his fixation over Christine. His love and craving for her had made him care about how she viewed him and hate everything about himself with exasperating passion. He would be better off despising Oscar, treating her with a contempt that any willing prisoner deserved. 

No matter how hard he wished, he could not despise Oscar, who succumbed to his desire without a struggle. There was no hostility, shame or apprehension in her eyes after their sensual encounter. Nor was there the off-putting expression of sudden familiarity in her manners. It seemed that nothing had changed in her regard for him, except that she now seemed to long for his touch. Somehow, she didn't seem to belong to the world above, and this made Erik feel more at ease with her presence. If she didn't belong there, she would not drag him into wanting to be a part of it, which he never could. He nuzzled her neck softly, relishing the sigh of contentment from her sleeping form. She shifted her position slightly under his arms and murmured something incomprehensible. Once again it was that female voice she so effectively hid. Erik wondered whether she would talk in her sleep. It was worth a try. She would talk in her natural voice, if he could make her talk while she was dreaming. 

"Oscar," he called to her, using his hypnotising voice to the full effect. 

"Yes?" she answered, still in her sleep.

"Since when have you been wearing that bandage around your chest?"

"Since I was a child… I can't remember exactly when."

"Why did you start to wear it?"

"To hide my shame… My father said I ought not to show my weakness."

Shame. No one knew about it better than he did. He was the very source of shame to his own mother. No wonder she despised him. He must have been like a piece of bad sculpture that the artist would rather forget. Only his mother could not have been so easily free from what she had given birth to. How she must have hated him. How he hated his mother for being the cause of his existence. That mutual loathing was what had compelled him to withdraw himself from the warmth of his lovers at the last minute, which was often met by silent gratitude and relief. Even in Persia, where he had been given his own harem, he had not allowed himself the luxury of releasing himself inside his women. He would never allow anyone to carry his child. It was rather ironic that Oscar was the first lover he could experience that forbidden pleasure with, precisely because she demanded that he should not treat her as a woman.

"Who else knew your secret?"

"My nanny and the family doctor… I think… my mother knew. My sisters never knew about it."

_So, it was her father who orchestrated the whole scenario of Oscar's life._ Erik reasoned in slight bemusement. _It's almost as ingenious as my life as an Opera Ghost._

"And André? How did he find out about your secret?"

"He didn't know."

_What is she saying? Is she telling me that their love was purely platonic?_ Erik thought in confusion. _That the poor bastard laid down his life for her, without even knowing her real sex?_ At that moment, he genuinely wished he wasn't the first to take Oscar. He did not need her always wondering what it could have been. He did not like the idea of André's sacrifice appearing more impressive than it already was.

"What kept you from telling him the truth?"

"I was afraid."

"What of?"

"He might not have desired me if he had known my secret."

Erik knew then what made him so attracted to Oscar. It was the depth of her loneliness that drew him to her. It was true that she could have not possibly known what he had gone through. She would never comprehend how humiliating it was to be displayed as a freak, beaten without mercy and laughed at. She could not imagine the depth of his anger against the human race; the anger that kept him in Persia for many years, playing the dark angel of death. Still, she knew what it was like having to hide her secret from the whole world. She understood how something that could not be her fault would turn into her own bitter shame. 

It was frustrating to know that he could never be entirely free from his sensitivity. What did it matter that they were both completely alone? Their respective reasons that drove them to this particular path would not be affected by that realisation. It did not comfort him, for he remained just as alone next to the loneliness of another. Yet, there was a desire, strangely selfless by his standard, to reach out and touch the other; to make that void just a bit more endurable. It's all he could manage to give. If anyone cared about him, provided that his pride would not intervene, it was all that he hoped to receive.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

While Oscar soon lost track of time since she began her underground life, it had not often been the case with Erik. He needed to know whether it was day or night outside, if nothing else. The air above the world smelled sweeter when the sun was no more. Occasionally, he enjoyed strolling around the streets of Paris without being seen or interrupted. The cemetery was his favourite place to spend time, reflecting on how death triumphed over everything, and yet the struggle for life and power continued everywhere. Ah, the vainness of it all. There was only one destination in the end. In this, every creature in the world was equal. The graveyard was almost always a deserted place, when Erik visited it. The fear of what was inevitable was often forgotten in daylight. At night, the place became a painful reminder of how fragile life was, and most people stayed away from it. There was a beauty in that ghostly silence, occasionally disturbed by the rustle of wind and the mating calls of owls. Yes, he used to love visiting that cemetery in his vicinity.

Lately, however, the purpose of tracking time had changed. He wanted to know the cycle of days, because he wanted to keep Oscar well by providing her regular meals and sleep. He even found himself feeling grateful for Nadir's offer of getting the supplies for him. He did not like leaving Oscar alone in his home. He had to feel her presence somewhere near him.

_I have not left this place, even for a short period of time, since Oscar arrived._ It was not a reassuring thought. He did not like anyone having any kind of power over him. It was bad enough that Oscar still made him burn with desire. It was not a promising sign that he loved waking up next to her. No, things were not good at all. She was meant to be his prisoner. He was supposed to be the one with the power. He should not let her have so much hold over him.

Erik lifted himself up slightly to have a better view of Oscar's face, half buried in the soft pillow. Sadness still lingered on that face, albeit peaceful. He wondered how old she was, though he didn't even know his own age. Her colouring was growing paler each day, losing that little trace of the spring sun. He fought the impulse to wake her up gently with light kisses. He was growing too soft too quickly. Or perhaps he always had that sentimental side to him, and sharing a bed with someone made it hard for him to keep that side at bay. Either way, he didn't like what was happening to him. He felt almost _trapped_. He should not feel that way in his own home.

Oscar didn't know where her captor was. He left her abruptly after providing her with the same breakfast he had provided every single day. It was clear from the meals she was given that he did not share the passion for food with his fellow Frenchmen. When he made a soup, although reasonable well spiced, it usually lasted three days. The monotony of menu didn't exactly help Oscar's usually-not-so great appetite. So, she left the tray untouched where he placed it. He had forgotten about telling her to consume it.

She sat for a while on the sofa, wondering how she would fill her free time. Going back to bed was no option as she had more than enough sleep. She could bury herself on the sofa, reflecting on her life. She had grown weary of it. She wished she could take a long walk before laughing at the absurdity of her fancy. Her activities had to be confined within the guest room and the bathroom attached to it. The room was not large, by any stretch of the imagination, and was filled with antique pieces and elaborate furnishings. There was little room to move about, unless she could climb up and down the stone walls. In the end, she chose the sensible option and decided to take a bath. Water always had a calming effect on her, and it was the one thing that she craved most during her time in the battle fields.

As she submerged herself in the comfort of a warm bath, she felt her body relax immediately. She looked down at her naked form and felt no dismay this time. She could almost feel love towards it, when she felt that unwelcoming cramp in her stomach. That curse, that harsh reminder of her biological sex, had returned. It never failed to make her forget her shame, however carefully she hid her secret. She had only ever been free from it during the Franco-Prussian war, when her mind required extreme and continuous alertness. She dried herself hurriedly, desperate to cover herself up. Back in the room, she tore off the long bandage she had been wearing into shorter pieces. She would have to ask for a new bandage and smaller towels. She loathed the prospect.

Erik could not stay away from his lair for long. As soon as he reached the rooftop of the opera house, he wanted to go back. Since he had proved a point to himself, he decided that he would do what he felt like. After all, he needed not to worry too much about what she meant to him. He had power to keep her as long as he wished. Her power over him paled in comparison. When he finally reached the guest room, Erik frowned at the sight that greeted him.

Oscar was pacing the room, like a caged animal. His frown only deepened as he spotted the untouched breakfast tray. Erik did not like this new development. He interpreted her frantic steps as a sign of boredom. Soon, he would have to give her something to do. But what? He did not need a soldier to guard his place. Nor did she seem to be the musical type, whom he could teach. In any case, the idea of having any kind of student repelled him. What was the point of teaching anything that would be wasted in his underground home? He certainly did not want another Christine. He no longer sought his triumph over the world through another. It was important, however, not to leave her to her own devices without giving her a task.

When she continued her pacing even as she became aware of his presence, Erik realised that there was more to this than boredom. He strode over to her, grabbing her arm.

"What is it?"

She didn't answer. She didn't even look at him. Erik could swear that he smelled fear and apprehension.

"Tell me." He was prepared to force an answer from her, however unwilling it came.

Oscar drew in deep breaths. There was no mistake in that his words were a command.

"I need cloths, lots of them," she blurted out, angry and relieved at once.

Erik looked slightly confused, but it didn't take him long to apprehend what caused her anxiety. He released her arm, bursting into laughter.

"Is that it?"

"I didn't want to ask…" she mumbled, eyes downcast and looking mortified.

"I have a lot of spare bandages. Would that help?" he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, although he found her insufferably cute.

Because Oscar's miserable mood did not improve, Erik decided to rely on his music, which always helped him when all else failed. He placed a comfortable arm chair next to his organ bench, to keep her close to him but far enough to allow him a good view of her expressions. He made her sit on the chair and began to play soft, soothing tunes. He smiled as he saw her eyes half closed, being lost in the calming melody that he was producing. He chuckled softly when she came out suddenly from her reverie and faced away from him to hide what his play had awoken inside her, as he changed the tone into that of passion and seduction.

Seeing her desperately fighting the urge to leave the chair, to either touch him or run to the safety of her room, made him almost wish she would lose her will to follow his command. He suspected that the only thing that kept her where she had been was his order to stay and listen to his play. The power of his music was competing with the control his words exercised over her. Either way, he was bound to win. Oscar, however, could only win one way, and he allowed her to have that small triumph by switching back to the safer melodies. Oscar didn't tell him what she thought of his music but he did not need to be told in words. He liked what he saw, and that was more than enough for him. He had a feeling that he would continue to enjoy making her sit through his performance.


	9. Chapter 9

A.N. I didn't think I could post this today. So a big thank you to dark-hearted rose for getting back to me so quickly despite all her other commitments. And thank you as always to all those who took their time to read and review.

* * *

Chapter Nine

Oscar spent the next three nights alone. She wondered whether her captor no longer desired her or he was considerate enough not to make her feel awkward during the period that was exceedingly discomforting for her. If he still wanted her, he had shown no sign of it. During the day, he made sure she was not left alone for longer than a few minutes. There were little changes brought in to this end. He now prepared meals and dined with her while she stayed in the kitchen, the result of which was great improvement on their diet. Fruit pancakes, soufflé, truffles and the like found their way to the small dining table. While he did not let her out of his sight, he also kept a safe distance from her. His usually expressionless face was made that much harder to read, as he seated her where he could observe her easily but it was difficult for her to look at the unmasked side of his face. She could not tell what he was thinking most of the time.

The only feeling she could sense from him was amusement and satisfaction when his music made her shiver with a desire to throw herself into his arms, which she had to resist with all her resolve. They both knew that she would have lost the fight, had he played those ruthlessly sensual melodies just a fraction longer. What she hoped her captor didn't know was that she longed for his touch, music or no music. The bed felt too large without him filling the extra space her body could not occupy. Oscar did not like this feeling, the feeling of dependence on someone. But there was no escape from it. She was trapped in her captivity and had nowhere to run from her feelings. When he came to her room to take her once again, she found no will in herself to resist what she had been waiting for. At that moment, there was nothing she wanted more than the feel of his firm grip around her hips.

Erik, however, had not left her completely alone during those frustrating nights. It was during her sleep that he learned many trivial things about Oscar and her family. He found out, for instance, how many sisters she had, whom they were married off to and exactly where in Versailles her father lived. He could visualise each and every room in that grand residence, where Oscar had been born twenty five years ago. He learned what clubs she had visited and which restaurants she had dined in. He even knew, after only a few probing sessions, the names, looks and habits of the entire household staff, a family dog, the horses in the stable and Oscar's father's mistresses.

Although Erik still mainly concentrated on his own pleasure during the act of physical intimacy, he knew something had changed in his desire towards Oscar. Sex now meant more than just a means of satisfying his own physical need. It became a ritual of claiming her as his own.

Oscar was still asleep when Erik awoke from his deep slumber, free from the usual nightmares. She lay on her side next to him, her back still tightly pressed against his body for warmth and comfort. He no longer objected to the feeling of contentment and the desires to protect that were spreading through his vein. It felt so right that he had her next to him.

"What are you doing, Oscar?" he asked, as he observed the now familiar little shift and virtually inaudible murmuring under his possessive arms. He wanted to know what kind of dream she was having. She didn't answer immediately, causing him to repeat the question.

"I am just watching Mama crying." Oscar sounded much younger, almost child-like.

"Why is she crying?"

"I don't know. I only showed her what I practiced today… I thought she would be pleased like Papa was… I'm going to find André. He thinks I'm clever."

Erik knew that Oscar probably wanted to dream about André more than anything. He did not like to be mean but it was not a topic he particularly wanted to hear about. He had to divert her attention from finding her childhood friend.

"Are you not going to embrace your mother?" was all he could come up with.

A funny question really if he had thought about it. When had he ever wanted to hug his own mother? Occasionally, she was gentle. At times, she was remorseful. She cried too. All he felt was cold numbness inside. Everything she did reminded him of the painful fact that she was ashamed of him. All her emotions towards him, be it guilt, tenderness, or remorse, had always been tainted with the sense of shame. The first feeling he could remember was that of rejection.

"No. She will only cry more. I hate to see her crying. Oh, no… she is praying now. She is asking me to pray with her."

He, too, hated her mother praying. She begged forgiveness for the sins that she could not even remember having committed. She was unable to comprehend that the merciful God would punish her with a child of such a face without a reason. The perfect side of her child's face was her husband's legacy. The cursed side had to be her own doing.

"Don't you like praying?"

"No. Papa said that religions were only for the weak. Papa is always right. Mama is weak. That's why she prays."

_He held more power over Oscar than I ever had over Christine._ Erik almost laughed at the thought. It also amused him to think that Oscar's father wanted to see the Commune crushed. _Didn't the Commune pass the decree that separated the church from the state, excluding religion from schools? Didn't they support gender equality? He wouldn't have had to go through all the trouble raising Oscar as a man, had it been the Communards who had ruled France._

"Do you tell your Papa all your secrets?" Erik had to know the extent of her father's control over Oscar. Her answer, however, was not what he expected.

"No. Papa said I should not tell my secrets to anyone." Her voice changed to her natural adult voice. "I'm glad that I never told him my feelings towards André. He could have had us separated."

_So, her precious André was the seed of her rebellion_. As he recalled that Raoul was the cause of Christine's defiance, Erik suddenly found himself sympathising with the General.

"You said your father was always right." He reminded her of what she said only a few moments ago; disapproval evident in his tone.

"I thought that when I was a child… I should have resigned from the army when the war with the Prussians was over."

"He didn't want you to resign?"

"He told me that I should not be so… sentimental. He said that the Communards were the enemy of France, more so than the Prussians."

"Did you have a reason not to believe him?"

"It felt wrong to kill civilians… while wearing an army uniform. The army exists to serve France as a whole, not just one section of it."

Erik wondered whether Oscar's reluctance to kill civilians was a weakness or strength. Her disposition was not disobedient. Yet, her father lost his control over her in the end. Ironically, he lost her because he never left any room for insubordination; because he tried to exercise a total control over her life. Erik dreaded the time when Oscar would wish for her release from him. If he could not be free from his emotional attachment to Oscar, he had to make her belong to him. That led him to thoughts that were not palatable not so long ago. He needed her to fall in love with him. Perhaps then she would never want to leave him. Despite the clarity of the goal, it didn't seem at all an easy task. He had to go about this carefully. A wrong approach could frighten her off for good. He had to think clearly. As he reflected the fact that she didn't even know his name, an idea came over him. He would take a walk in the labyrinth, which would give him an excuse to leave a note for Oscar.

Oscar didn't want to open his eyes because she knew that André had died; that he would disappear when she opened them. But she desperately wanted to believe that he was alive. The dream felt so life-like. The feel of his dark curly hair was just as she remembered it. So were the sounds of his laughter and the soft look in his chocolate brown eyes. If she just opened her eyes and he were still there, then she would be sure that everything was real. She shouldn't have. André was gone in an instant. She sighed at her stupidity. Why did she insist on opening her eyes while dreaming? She was about to close them again, when she saw a neatly folded note on the pillow. She reached out and opened it.

_Oscar_

_I trust that you are capable of feeding yourself. When you are done, spend your time exploring my home. I will not be gone for long._

_Erik_

So, her captor had a name, and he had finally told her. It was the only way she was going to find out. She didn't want to ask anything about him or his life. Prisoners did not ask questions about their guards. It was always the other way around. She had no intention of breaking the rule. She sat up, eager to leave her room. The task he set up for her was inviting, and she did not want to fail him. Perhaps she could have that little glimpse of his life without having to ask him.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Oscar's disappearance caused a great deal of pain to General Ferré. Although he let the authorities believe that his son had been kidnapped, he did not suppose this likely. His son went missing with André. Of course, no one except himself saw the significance of a simple foot soldier gone missing. He had provided both of them a high standard of training in combat skills. It was unrealistic to think both of them being held prisoners by the gormless Communards. The only plausible conclusion he could draw was that his soft-hearted son had deserted the army, with hopelessly devoted André in tow. He had no idea where Oscar got into his head that ridiculous idea of the army existing solely for the defence of France from other countries. However, one thing was certain. His heir did not understand the ruthless nature of the politics. To allow oneself influenced by mercy or integrity was to guarantee a political suicide.

_Perhaps I should have made him spend less time in improving combat skills and more time in studying __Machiavelli._ He thought with bitter regret. He had relied on his power over his son all too much. He should have made sure that Oscar understood why the Communards would become the death of France, if not crushed out. The idealistic imbeciles who didn't understand the first thing about power would have ruined his country; they would have made her powerless and divided. Any sensible political body fighting against the national government would have seized the Paris Bank when they had an opportunity. The feeble Communards asked the bank for a loan! So concerned were they about their international image, which brought them neither money nor troops. Even their assassination attempts were pathetic, completely disorganised and left to those who probably had never shot anyone except at close range. He had been a target of several such attempts and no bullet came anywhere near him. Apart from himself and his son, to a slightly lesser extent, France was all that he really cared about. He was willing to do anything and everything in his power to keep her safe from the hands of those who were unfit to rule.

While regretful, the situation was not as hopeless as it had first appeared. He had a grand plan for Oscar; he had already secured his son's promotion to Lieutenant-Colonel. A little setback was not going to turn into a full-scale disaster. He needed to get his son back, re-educate that simple mind, and return the mended creature to the army. There was just one little drawback in that scheme. The General simply had no idea where his son was, which was the cause of his fury and anxiety. Oscar was his making and the creator should not remain ignorant of the whereabouts of his creation.

What was more important, however, was that his son should not give himself up as a deserter. That would be a disastrous move. His political enemies would absolutely love the story. He must get hold of his reckless son before anyone else did. After ten good days of abusing his household staff with his justifiably ill temper and grave mood, he finally came up with a plan that might just solve his problem. He would pretend to be grievously ill, making sure the papers printed the story. His son would come back, remorseful and guilt-ridden.

* * *

Erik aimlessly wandered the seemingly endless twists and turns of the dark tunnels that protected his home from the threat of prying eyes. His mind occupied with various plans and strategies, weighing pros and cons of each, his feet alone carried him around, determining his next turn while being mindful of and successfully avoiding any traps that he had set for the unwelcoming trespassers. The pitch blackness of the tunnels, and their ostensibly random, irrational layouts could drive simple souls into madness without hope. It seemed appropriate that he had chosen this place to think things through. No light could make wholly visible the mind of another; it always retained dark and unpredictable corners to the curious gaze of others. Erik was, however, the master of darkness and mazes, and Oscar's mind was merely another labyrinth that he could conquer.

The more he thought about it, the less he felt that it was hopeless to make Oscar fall in love with him. Unlike his futile affair with Christine, there were many factors that were in his favour. Firstly, there was no man who could compete with him for Oscar's affection. Begrudgingly, he admitted that André had been handsome and devoted to her. But what could have been his only rival was dead, and thankfully it was not his own doing. Second, there was no doubt in his mind that she thrived on the physical attention he gave her. It was easier to turn lust into love than to turn fear into love. Third, she was happy to stay with him, at least for now. He didn't have to be in a hurry to secure her. He could take his time to develop and adjust various strategies that would work. That Oscar talked and responded to his questions during her sleep would certainly help his cause.

Having decided that he had a good chance of winning her heart, Erik proceeded to think about what could go wrong in his endeavour. As his reflection turned inevitably to the curse he would never be free from, he felt brief relief at the absence of mirrors; he could not have resisted looking into one, however much he hated what he would have found inside. The relief was short lived, however, as his mind conjured up and threw into a form what it wanted to avoid looking at. The image of his bare face - such a small and insignificant part of him - nearly crushed his optimism, even without the aid of the mirror. Erik fought against giving in to self-pity, reminding himself that he had seen her shame without rejecting her. When that did not convince him, he drew comfort from the fact that Oscar was not intrusive. He needed not to reveal what lay under the white mask.

The first impediment somewhat brusquely examined and dismissed, his attention moved to more comfortable negatives. His jealousy could cause a problem. It would not do to show it against André; making sarcastic remarks about Oscar's treasured memory would seriously jeopardise his chances with her. It would be wise to avoid the topic unless judged necessary. His reluctance to talk about himself could pose another threat. Love without the real knowledge of its object had very little substance. It could very easily turn into an unforgiving disillusion. However, revealing oneself to another was not a risk-free business. He would have to proceed slowly, making her accept him gradually. Feeling more confident than before, he decided to go back to Oscar. He did not want to leave her alone too long.

On the way back, he thought of Oscar's status as his captive. He suspected that her unquestioning, absolute obedience to his commands had something to do with her standing with him. He found her submission pleasing, almost touching. Had he tried to manipulate her, he could not have hoped for a better result. Her willingness to follow his orders was certainly useful in ensuring that she would not neglect her body's needs. It certainly made his life around her a lot easier. The only problem he could foresee with her present position was that it could prevent her from expressing her own wishes and needs freely. Nevertheless, their initial agreement gave him the power to decide the length of her stay and could not be brushed aside lightly. For now, he just needed to make sure that he would be more attentive to her needs.

Oscar stood in front of a huge oak book case, haphazardly glancing at the titles of books. It covered an entire wall, from ceiling to floor, of a large, relatively damp-free and well-lit, square room. It was not just the sheer volumes of the books that intrigued her. She was also surprised to see how many different languages she could detect from the titles. Judging from what she had just seen, there was no doubt in her mind that Erik could pass as an intellectual. She was about to leave the library when she noticed a title written in a language that she had not seen before. She carefully pulled out the book from the shelf, just to have a better look.

After carefully examining the title, she concluded that it was not written in any European language.

"Perhaps Arabic?" She talked aloud, as if that would help settle the matter.

All of a sudden, a voice broke out. "I have been to Persia."

Oscar nearly dropped the book in shock. _A talking book? Impossible. But the voice was coming from this very book._ As if mocking at the limited power of her imagination, a soft chuckle came from behind her. She instantly turned around to find Erik, standing in front of her, their bodies mere inches apart. It astonished her that she had not heard him approach. She had a keen sense of hearing, which was only sharpened in this place of darkness. Had he been her enemy, she could have been dead by now. He certainly possessed valuable skills for one-to-one confrontations.

"Just a little trick of mine. There is no need to stand so awe-struck." he said, his lips slightly twisting in amusement.

"How long have you been watching me?"

"Long enough to hear you talking to yourself. Were you that bored?"

Oscar realised that something was different about him. His tone of voice and the look in his eyes were softer, almost warm.

"I didn't expect that the book would talk back."

"Of course not. That would not have been half as entertaining," he said, with a quiet smirk playing on his lips. "Would you care for some wine?"

Without waiting for her answer, Erik strode over to a table near the fire place, gesturing her to follow him. She sat down on one of the wooden chairs, watching him pouring red wine into two goblets.

"Do you not wish to know what I was doing in Persia?" he asked, handing her the glass he had just filled.

"I didn't think I was allowed to ask questions about… your life." She replied, sipping the liquid and savouring the delicate, supple structure.

"Oh? Why is it that?"

His brow arched, reflecting his curiosity.

"A basic rule of any captivity," she muttered, no longer so sure of her belief.

"You can ask me whatever you want to," he said, with a tone that left no room for dispute. "I can judge for myself whether your questions warrant answers. I'm the only one who makes the rules around here."

She nodded at him silently. She could not contest the fact that he had the sole right to make the rules in his own home. She just wasn't sure whether she should be pleased with or suspicious of her new found freedom. After a while, she decided that she could get used to it. Being allowed to ask a few questions would not threaten her status as a prisoner, which was the only saving grace for the lack of courage to face either the wrath of her father or the military trial.

"You weren't just an idle traveller in Persia?" she asked, trying to focus on Erik rather than her bleak future.

"I designed buildings for the Shah," he said nonchalantly and took a drink of his fine wine before continuing his talk. He just wanted to enjoy, for a few moments, the look of surprise and admiration that crossed her face. "That wasn't the only service that I provided for the Shah."

"You were his musician, right?"

"No. I destroyed his potential enemies at his request. I was an assassin."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Erik intently watched Oscar's response to his revelation, his cold, suspicious eyes searching for judgement. His gaze softened, as he found none. Instead, he saw a glimpse of indisputable fascination in her eyes. The expression was soon replaced with something like comprehension. He drank his wine slowly and took another glass, waiting for her to talk.

It all suddenly made sense to Oscar. Looking through his drawings, books and other possessions revealed nothing of his dark past that she had long suspected. She knew now why he had the eyes of a lone wild animal. He could not have experienced what she had in the battlefields; the comfort of comradeship and the need to protect. He was alone in his acts of killing.

Her eyes focused on the red liquid inside her glass, she could not help but notice the importance of the disclosure, however casually it came. It touched her that he trusted her enough to reveal this part of his life. A man, who lived alone, away from the sun and the company of his own species, could not have trusted easily.

"I have to say that the Shah could not have chosen better," said Oscar. Judging from his strange abilities, he must have been a capable assassin.

"But I cannot imagine that you became an assassin out of loyalty."

"You are not wrong on both accounts."

"Did you take lives out of fear or for reward?"

Erik reflected on the question for a short while. Did he fear the man whom he had regarded only as a vehicle for acquiring power? Did he love the gold and beautiful women enough to carry on strangling his victims that personally meant nothing to him? He knew the repercussions of such killings all too well to be influenced by fear or reward. The eyes he helped close haunted him mercilessly in his sleep, even though they were meant to be thus closed sooner or later; no one except himself had ever escaped the Shah's murderous intentions. Without guilt or remorse, he lived with his nightmares.

"No. I killed out of anger. Serving the Shah just provided a perfect excuse."

Anger was another emotion Erik understood well. It was a self-protection mechanism. Anger and hatred kept him alive, made him seek power, and gave him the reason to live, when fear and pain were his only company in his lonely life.

"You were angry with those who crossed your royal employer?"

"I was angry with humanity," his reply came with tamed bitterness.

She stared at his face as it became expressionless once again, not knowing how to make a reply. She understood, from his music, that his life could not have been easy; that he had suffered. But being angry with humanity itself? What could have possibly made him feel that way? He seemed too confident, too sure of himself, for him to have endured something so terrible.

"That's a pretty grand concept," she said finally, after taking another drink from her glass. "I am not sure I understand you."

"I would be surprised if you did," he said without sarcasm, thankful that she had lived a reasonably sheltered life. "Did you kill for France? Out of loyalty?"

"I imagined that it would happen that way," she laughed wearily. "But when it actually happened, I wasn't thinking about France. I fought for my own survival and… to lead my men out of immediate danger. Whenever possible, I aimed at the heart, always trying not to look at the eyes. Fortunately, I was good at shooting my target from a distance. But it was not always possible to avoid close range combat. Taking the lives of enemy soldiers was a lot more difficult than I had imagined."

She took another drink, this time emptying the glass. Instead of continuing her talk, she fell into a deep silence. Erik filled the empty glass, hearing the horrors and cries of battlefields in her stillness.

"It became easier as time went on," she resumed her talk. "When I saw one of my men killed and two others horribly injured, I felt this anger swelling up inside me. I was angry with my inability to protect men in my charge. I decided that the more I killed, the safer they would become. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not protect them all. I lost half of my unit during the war. When it was over, I was glad that I didn't have to lose any more men, even though France lost the war. I was glad that André was safe."

Erik helplessly watched her drowning into her own world, where he could not reach her. It was likely that she was thinking about someone whom he'd rather not. He almost wished she would shed tears so that he could hold and comfort her. But she looked serenely calm this time. He decided to wait out the silence, which, to his surprise, didn't last for more than several minutes.

"To think that I had been raised as a gift to the army speaks a volume about my life," she smiled a self-depreciating smile. "I am not sure why you take any interest in it."

"Perhaps I am bored?"

She smiled again, nearly taking his breath away. He had seen her smile before but it was tainted with sadness, somewhat forced. Its inappropriateness aside – since he could not see anything pleasing about his remark, this smile was pure and voluntary. He wanted her to smile like that every time she saw him. He was willing to go to any length to make that happen.

"Did your friend bring any outside news the other day?" Her voice was small, still not quite believing in her right to ask questions.

"The Commune has surrendered if that interests you."

"So, the shootings are over?"

Erik hated to crush the hope in her eyes but the truth served him better.

"Not really. The soldiers have been busy executing the Communards."

"Ah…" Her face fell.

"Do not think about what is happening outside. It does not concern you any more. Not while you stay here."

"But you will eventually decide to free me sooner or later. I have no say concerning the time of my release."

"You can remain here till things calm down, even when I no longer want you as my captive."

"I can?" Her face lit up.

"My offer stays unless you break my rules."

She nodded her understanding, looking visibly more relaxed. Erik had to congratulate himself for making her captivity so desired, even though a lot of it had to do with her not having any happy alternative. She became quiet once again, but the silence was not uncomfortable. He could see from her hesitant look that she was thinking about a question, debating its acceptability.

"You are not going to tell me why you were angry with the human race?" she asked, as though she had already heard _No_ and wanted to confirm what she had heard.

Erik always liked to surprise others.

"You understand shame, yes?" he said, focusing his mind on not delving into his past too deep. "But you do not know what it is like, your shame being exposed to others and constantly being rejected, despised and humiliated for it."

Oscar could detect no emotion from his voice, but understood the enormity of the revelation. He had opened the window of his heart to let her in, while not willing to tell her what he was doing. That his voice was so deliberately void of feeling, just like the face she was looking at, convinced her of how difficult the decision must have been. He could snap shut the small entrance in an instant. The rarity of the opportunity made her feel both dizzy and resolute at the same time. She had to seize it.

She tried to imagine what it was like to be Erik, based on the limited information he was willing to divulge about himself. Her father had prepared her well before she had to face the world. He had been always there to protect and guide her. She only had to live with the fear of discovery; she didn't have to live the consequences. She had endured the terror of the battlefield; the smell of burning flesh, the deafening sound of gunfire, and the pitiful cries of the wounded. But could she have coped, had the exposure of her secret turned her into the object of perpetual ridicule and contempt? She was not quite sure.

"You are stronger than I am," she said with a quiet sincerity. "I don't think I would have survived it."

"Then I am glad that you never had to live it."

Oscar held out her hand, smiling her bewitching smile. "Friends?"

This time, it was Erik who was surprised. Not knowing how to let her down without embarrassing her, he took the hand, even as the concept felt slightly alien to him.

"Friends," he repeated, making a mental note on contemplating the implications later.

It wasn't enough for him. But it was at least a start. A friendship that did not exclude physical love could not be a bad thing.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Two weeks passed since Oscar had seen the sun for the last time. However, she did not miss the sun, because it was a symbol of harsh, blinding judgments. Instead, she missed the rain, the wind and the night sky. She yearned for the open space where she could freely move about. But she knew there was no longer such space for her in the outside world, so she kept quiet about what she wished for.

Despite her silence on such matters, Erik began to worry that she might be missing the elements of the world above. Since their short conversation in the library, he knew things were going the way he had planned. Oscar would talk without being questioned first. There was soft expression in her eyes whenever she looked at him. She would show interest in his thoughts and feelings on various topics, ranging from history to arts. She was making every effort to understand who he was without asking intrusive questions. It was her way of showing him what their friendship meant to her. She looked genuinely happy around him. Considering all this, he had no reason to fear she lacked anything in his care.

Yet, he could not help but persist in his pessimism. Perhaps it was that brief glimpse of nostalgia when she talked about the beauty of the night sky even to the eyes of tired and weary soldiers who did not know whether they would live to have another look the following evening. Perhaps it was that hint of pride when she talked of the harsh training regime she had endured as a child. Whatever it was, he suspected that she was not entirely happy in this confined space.

A part of him wanted to take her outside with him, perhaps for a long walk or just for a glimpse of the moon and stars. Another warned him against any such attempts to please her. A little taste of freedom could only ever lead to wishing for more. Besides, the outside world was still far too dangerous for her. She needed to learn to become his shadow in order for both of them to escape any unwanted attention. No, he could not allow her to accompany him to the outside world, not yet. There was still something he could do to alleviate her thirst for a sense of freedom. But before he could make it happen, he had to deal with another visit from Nadir.

Oscar was once again told that she must stay in her room alone. This time, though, she was not free to pace the length of the room any manner she liked. Instead, she was told not to make a single noise even though the heavy door would remain shut. As Oscar nodded, Erik considered his command and decided to improvise it.

"Count to three thousand after the door is shut. Try to walk without noise while you are counting. If you can walk as silently as your normal breathing sound by then, you can continue to pace the room that way till you wear yourself out."

The little grin on the corner of her mouth told him all that he needed to know. She was going to love that little task. With hard-soled boots on a stone floor, it was not going to be an easy one; precisely the reason why she would love it.

Nadir's visit was uneventful this time. Erik met him half way in the labyrinth and led him to the lair, after blowing his lantern out and putting up with a few curses and loud complaints. Although he'd rather have watched Oscar making progress with her task, he managed to listen attentively to the outside information Nadir was eager to divulge. Having already executed thousands who had been found guilty by summary courts martial and shifting tens of thousands of Parisians to Versailles for trials, a substantial number of soldiers still remained in the city. Paris was under a martial law and the rumours speculated that it would remain so for a long time to come. The most interesting news Nadir brought, however, was the sudden illness of General Ferré.

"The Commune sympathisers have some small consolation. A grief-stricken father is likely to accept any terms for the release of his son." Nadir noted.

For a short moment, Erik could visualise an image of a broken old man, consumed with worry and refusing food. The General might have been behind the uprooting and destruction of many Parisian lives and the stubborn presence of the army in the city, which caused great inconvenience to his heir's captor. But he was a father, nonetheless, and would probably grieve for a child whom he had taken great care of. Oscar's father was an interesting character to contemplate, if for nothing else, because he had played a vital role in what she had become. It was really a shame that Erik's win would be the General's loss and vice versa. There was no way that he would pass this piece of news to her. There was a clear ceiling to Erik's sympathy, and even that small uneasiness soon faded at Nadir's following words.

"What puzzles me, however, is why he let the news become so wide-spread."

"A trap," Erik reflected.

_A trap for Oscar's return._ The general had no way of knowing how cut-off she was from the outside world. Had she not been so, she would have gone back to him. Erik's interpretation -which he found plausible - also implied that the General did not believe his son was a victim of political retaliation and was of some values to his enemies. By refusing to believe in that possibility, he had entirely discarded the theory that his heir might have been kidnapped. Erik's lips curled upwards slightly at the irony. _The man had no idea how close it was for his son to have been genuinely kidnapped. I did not need any agreement to keep Oscar here._

"To give the kidnappers a false sense of security," Nadir interpreted. "That sounds more like the General. He wouldn't hesitate to use any means to get his heir back."

"He should not keep his hope so high," Erik scoffed before realising that he could not leave it just there. Nadir's observant nature could be irritating at times.

"According to your information, the Commune has collapsed beyond any hopes for reconstruction. The only sensible option left for the Communards is to escape from the country. Trying to contact the cunning old fox for negotiations of any kind would be too much of a risk to take. Whoever got his son is likely to find their prisoner nothing more than a nuisance at this point. His precious heir could well be already dead, thanks to his success in destroying the Commune. He is better off finding consolation from his other children."

"A powerful man must have an heir, Erik. Daughters mean next to nothing for them," Nadir replied pensively. "I myself preferred having a son before I lost everything."

"Do you regret your decision to help me?"

Erik could not help but admire Nadir's way of reminding him of his old debt. Not that Nadir had much to lose, except the power he had become weary of. The demise of his family had nothing to do with the one he managed to save. He did, however, risk his own life for Erik. The least Erik could do was to half-heartedly admit that Nadir had saved his life at times when his mood was better and the business of living seemed more tolerable.

"I still do not understand why I did it. But no, I've never regretted my decision."

"I will escort you back to the tunnel." Erik rose, placing his hand lightly on Nadir's shoulder. "We talked a little too much today."

Nadir followed Erik, cursing himself for being touched by that little gesture from a man who had never thanked him for all his sacrifices. Erik's mind, on the other hand, was occupied with deciding which course of action was the lesser of the two evil. Oscar had not cleaned her blood-strained uniform. Despite his possessive nature, Erik understood why it could not be washed; it was the blood that saved her life. If he could not respect the one who shed it, he still respected its importance to the one for whom it was shed. That meant Oscar was always wearing clothes that were too large for her. But the surprise he had planned for her would not be so impressive without clothing that fitted her. The perfect surprise, on the other hand, would require her spending a long evening alone after spending the entire afternoon by herself.

He smiled at the solution to his dilemma. There was no way that she could have mastered the movements of a ghost within the time limit she was given. All that was needed was an increase in the time allowed. She would not succeed. She would, however, be occupied.

Oscar greeted him with a wide smile as the heavy door squeaked open, bolting up out of the chair on which she had sat motionless for hours. She had been bored out of her wits, admitting to herself that she was no assassin material.

"Your friend has left?"

"That should be obvious. Shouldn't it? You wouldn't like me to introduce him to you."

"No," she admitted, looking up at him with anticipation.

She would not ask what she wanted to know. He had already told her that the outside world was no concern of hers. Nevertheless, she wondered whether Erik might part with some of the knowledge he had gained from his friend's visit. He might reveal just a little glimpse of the events above the ground. Such optimism was ill-found, however, since he seemed to have developed something of a talent in reading her mind.

"Oscar," he called out gently, cupping her by the chin and staring into her eyes. "I am not in the habit of imparting information that need not be shared. I advise you to disregard the world above and forget your previous life. When I wish to return you, I will get you well-prepared."

His tone was soft, almost seductive, but there was an unmistakable finality about it. As she listened to his uncompromising words, a strange sense of relief spread through her. If she had no knowledge of the happenings in the world, she had no responsibility towards it, either.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Oscar could not believe how difficult it was to walk without hearing her footsteps. In the outside world, she hardly ever noticed such sounds. There were more interesting things that rightly caught the attention of her ears. However, the lack of noise down here was such that any sound would present itself with exaggerated force and clarity. She swore she could hear even her own heartbeat. For hours she had persisted in her endeavour to carry out the task she had been given twice on the same day, this time using the long dark hall as her practice ground. She knew she would not master the challenge the second time, but did not feel disheartened. It was just a matter of finding the right way to shift her weight and getting her body used to the new system. She had been making some progress, albeit slowly. She had a feeling that it wouldn't be too long before she would be given another chance.

When she was told to practice her steps again three days later, she was not surprised. Erik didn't like that little knowing smile on her face. He hated being predictable. Perhaps, he should make her read a book on medicine or play simple piano tunes next time he went out. Still, he was going to have the last laugh before the day ended; she would get her surprise. He would make sure of it.

Upon returning home, Erik found Oscar in the hallway, standing still with her arms crossed and leaning against the wall.

"You are back," she said, opening her eyes and giving a slight smile. "I have been trying to think where I keep going wrong. I have no idea how you can move like that."

"I take it that you still haven't mastered that little trick."

"You knew I wouldn't," she replied unfazed, taking a few steps towards her room and holding the door open.

"How did you know I was back?" he asked, noticing the improvement she had made during his absence.

"A slight shift in the air and the scent that I recognise as yours," she answered with a small grin. She knew she had impressed him. "This place has strange effects on my senses."

"You adapt well," he observed, wondering whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

That she was learning to live comfortably in darkness meant that she could accept his lair as her home rather than a temporary accommodation. On the other hand, her tasks could soon become less interesting for her. He might be forced to take her outside with him. He would have to think about the pros and cons of the matter later. It was nearly midnight. He proceeded to unpack the parcels he brought home in front of her curious eyes.

Oscar stared at the articles that Erik had carefully laid down on the bed, not knowing how to react. There were three sets of clothes--trousers, shirts, vests and jackets--next to a pair of boots. The colours were all black, except the white shirts, making the clothing like a mini version of Erik's. The only thing that seemed not to match his somewhat formal attire was a pair of gloves and a cloak, which he would have been hard-pressed to find in June. There was even a small bottle of her favourite cologne. She certainly didn't expect him to go out just to get these for her.

"Are you not going to try them on?" he asked, pointing towards a gold framed, full length mirror that Oscar had neglected to make use of.

"I don't know what to say," she murmured, her look half-way between confusion and delight.

"A _Thank you_ would suffice," his tone was mocking and affectionate at once.

"I am not sure whether I have enough money with me to pay for these."

She wondered whether she had any bank account that her father didn't know of. Judging from the materials and quality of sewing, the garments were not cheap.

"No need. Consider it as a part of prison service."

"They make rather expensive uniforms."

She could not help but smile at the prospect of wearing something that wouldn't make her feel clumsy. Perhaps it could help her with what she had tried to accomplish all evening.

"Just try one set. I will give you a few moments alone," he said, heading for the door that had never been locked since her arrival, except during Nadir's visits. "I have something else to give you."

As Erik handed her sword back to her, he could see Oscar's eyes widen with surprise.

The delight she could not hide from her face was that of a child who just got its favourite toy back. The peculiar way she caressed the hilt confirmed him that he did not overlook what it meant to her.

"To go with your new outfit," he explained, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he took that treasure away from her in the first place. "You want a practice room?"

"You would let me use my sword at your home?" Oscar could not quite believe what she was hearing.

"You understand that you will need to master another skill first before that happens. Do not compromise speed, and you will have your practice room."

She nodded, excitement and delight written across her face. There were no words that could do justice to how much she appreciated his gesture. She realised that it was not a major sacrifice on his part. All the same, she believed that he would not have lightly bestowed that small kindness upon anyone. She believed that he had finally accepted her as a friend.

"Pay attention to your breathing and a particular muscle inside your pelvis. You might just get there."

"You are smiling," she stated, almost forgetting the importance of his advice. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

"I've been thinking just how easy it is to make you happy."

"Ah." She squirmed, blushing faintly. "Meaning that I am predictable?"

"No, it means that I understand you." Erik assured her, musing at her rather out-of-place blush. He was pleased that he had seen it.

_He understands me?_ Oscar thought incredulously. Slowly, it started to sink in her mind that she could not contradict his claim. Even on the second day of her stay, she had seen that look of understanding from him. _I haven't been here that long, and I feel as though he has known me all my life. Perhaps more than that. It is as though he has somehow sneaked into the part of myself that I was not willing to show anyone._

She held her breath and closed her eyes as she felt him close. Their lips met, and she was burning with his touch. It was a bad idea to fall for one's captor. But life was too volatile to live sensibly all the time. As his fingers effortlessly removed her clothes, she decided to live for the present, not to think about the time when his passion would find another object. The future was only another present, after all, and it was no more important than this one. As his lips softly landed on the back of her neck, she had to squeeze out her words with much effort. "I want it dark."

"Darker than it is?" he asked, turning her around to face him.

"Can we blow out the candles? All of them," she asked, placing her hand over his mask. She wanted to do this one thing for him. She wanted to make Erik feel more comfortable in his nakedness, without making him feel apprehensive.

He looked at her in amazement for a moment and nodded silently. He only had to close his eyes and murmur something under his breath, and a gush of wind purposely swept through the space, finding and extinguishing every single candle in sight. Oscar could not help but admire his peculiar abilities.

"Better?" he asked, carefully laying down his mask on the bedside table.

"Much better," she replied, her hand trailing down his face for the feel of his shame. "I can wait if you don't feel comfortable," she murmured softly, as she sensed him stiffen.

"No, keep going," he replied, his voice quiet and poignant.

As he trembled involuntarily under her inquisitive caress, Oscar's heart swelled with warmth while his became filled with anger and bitterness. He could not believe he put himself in this position again, wanting to be accepted despite his face. He gripped her wrist forcefully, his skin burning with indignation at her fingertips. She didn't whimper. Instead, he saw her smiling that blissful smile, which managed to stop him from throwing her to the floor just in time.

"Now I understand _you_," she whispered, before finding his lips. His vulnerability was the most special quality about him.


	14. Chapter 14

A.N. If you have been reading this far, I hope you will stay till the end. I wanted this fic to be a realistic story of how lust can turn into love in captivity. I hope I am not doing too badly. Special thanks to my beta reader, dark-hearted rose, for all her help and support. And a big thank you to all those who have been reading and reviewing.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

_Freedom_. Erik thought, clasping Oscar's hand and kissing her hot, sticky shoulder. Freedom was the cool air touching the right side of his face while his body was pressed against another's warmth. It was Oscar's uninhibited smile at the feel of his exposed deformity. It was a nakedness that was not humiliating in the presence of another.

"I'm glad that you are happy," she said with a grin.

"Why do you think I am happy?"

"I can taste it. Besides, we just had satisfying sex."

He frowned slightly at her choice of description. From the uncontrollable rise and fall of her chest and the involuntary sighs that continued long after he made his final thrust inside her, it was easy to tell that she was more than just satisfied. She had an annoying habit of understating her feelings.

"That doesn't say anything. You can still feel sad, bitter or even empty afterwards."

"But you are not."

"No, I'm not," he conceded.

Erik let a comfortable silence fall between them, interrupted only by soft breathing. Then, as though an afterthought, an insignificant observation, he stated, "You are not repelled by what you touched."

"It is part of you just as your mask is. It makes you unique. It is the very source of your power. At the same time, it is not you. Neither is your mask. You are more than that."

"Is that how you regard your body and the Oscar the world sees?"

"I haven't thought about myself like that but I suppose I could start to think that way. It might just improve my self-esteem," she replied, turning to face him. She knew her eyes would not be able to see anything. So, she kept her eyes closed. She could see him better that way.

"Why is it that you are not afraid of darkness?" he asked, cupping her chin with one hand.

"What is there to fear in darkness that we do not have to in the daylight? Death and suffering do not shy away from the sun."

"Many fear darkness."

"Perhaps they were told too many stories when they were children? Stories where darkness becomes a symbol of all things to fear. I didn't have anyone telling me such tales."

Her laughter contained no bitterness or sadness, which baffled Erik slightly. Despite the impossibility of her life, she never seemed to resent any aspect of her upbringing. She never seemed to wonder what it would have been like to have a normal childhood – if there was such a thing.

"Any chance for a story? Have you loved anyone?"

Erik debated with himself whether it was a good idea to mention Christine. It was in the past, safely buried and tucked away in the corner of his mind. Well, most of the time. When the memory returned unexpectedly, he could not think of her without bitter shame. It was not so much that she had chosen Raoul over him, for he came to that conclusion, long ago, that her decision was best for everyone concerned. It was more about him exposing himself to her whims. He did not miss her. Nevertheless, her name caused him discomfort and pain, because it reminded him of the actions he wished he had never taken. Rejection did nothing for his fragile self-respect. Surprisingly, however, he didn't feel any emotion towards Christine at that particular moment. He just wanted to see Oscar's reaction to his relationship with his former protégé. He decided that he could talk about it, while revealing as little detail as possible.

"I once had my opera performed on the stage."

"I wish I had seen it," she said, her voice animated with excitement. "The audience must have loved it."

"They loved the end bit," Erik kept his tone flat with little effort, though it momentarily pained him to think what had happened to his only opera.

"How did it end?"

"Splendidly well. I wrote the opera for a girl whom I had taught to sing and eventually fell in love with. She played a leading soprano, and naturally I played the opposite part in that opera… uninvited. It was my last sorry attempt to win her back. She played her part to perfection, ripping my mask off to expose me in front of the whole audience. I responded by kidnapping her."

Erik found himself feel no emotion over Christine's betrayal. Oscar, on the other hand, felt mortified at the humiliation and disgrace he had to suffer. If the scene played in front of her eyes, she would shoot the soprano without hesitation.

"I hope you killed her."

"Would you?" Oscar's reaction amused him.

_She wouldn't kill an armed civilian even in self-defence. Yet, she wishes a woman, whom she has never met, dead?_

"Perhaps not. But I would have been seriously tempted. What did you do with her in the end?"

"I brought her here and was going to make her my bride, whether she liked it or not. Then her lover turned up to rescue her. I gave her two unappetising choices. She could consent to marrying me, and I would let her lover go unharmed. Refuse me, and I would strangle him to death."

Oscar fell into silence. It did register with her that his former student probably had not wanted to be his bride. The faceless girl who had once claimed his heart must have been frightened out of her wits, agonising over two unpalatable options. Still, any sign of love towards Christine on Erik's part after her betrayal angered Oscar. She could not suppress the irrational animosity towards the singer as though Christine had personally insulted and humiliated her, as if it was her own secret that had been exposed to the world.

Since she could sense his anxiety over the silence between them, she finally decided to end it. But her efforts to keep the tone steady miserably failed. She could hear herself blurting out, "How could you want to marry someone who betrayed you like that?"

It both pained and pleased Erik to hear unambiguous disappointment in her voice. He wondered whether her outburst had something to do with her jealousy towards Christine, which would have given him cause for a feeling of satisfaction.

"I thought it punishment for her to live with my bare face."

A small grin appeared on Oscar's countenance.

"Now I understand. You wanted her to be reminded of her traitorous act every single day. What happened to her? You are not still married, are you?"

The light tone in her voice made Erik realise that his assumption had been misplaced. Whatever she was feeling towards Christine, it was not jealousy.

"I didn't marry her. I let her go with him."

"That is the most pathetic love story I've ever heard," Oscar concluded harshly, disappointed and annoyed once again.

Erik burst into laughter. Years of heartache and passionate love had just been summarised as _pathetic_, and he could feel no anger. Instead, he gently stroked her head, creating changes in her mood for the better.

"Can you let your hair grow just a little longer so that I can play it between my fingers?"

"I will let it grow as long as yours," she answered, entwining her fingers with his soft hair, the colour of which was not visible to her eyes. "Your natural hair length, I mean. What colour is it?"

"Brown. Just like yours," he whispered, pressing his lips against her forehead.

"It suits you well," she replied, visualising his unmasked face.

"You sound as though you had seen my face."

"It isn't that difficult to imagine."

Erik felt her soft lips on his cheek. He closed his eyes momentarily to relish the exhilarating feeling of freedom. _Shame is an emotion that can be felt only by social animals. It is a feeling of inadequacy and failure. _It was his inability to rid himself of the desire to be respected by another that brought his misery. He could not have been free with Christine because pity and compassion only highlighted the fact that their object existed. His pride had refused to let him accept what she had been willing to give. It would never have been enough. It would have driven him further into madness.

"You haven't asked me why I let Christine go."

Oscar knew that she would regard anyone with the name _Christine_ with disdain from that day on. Someone like that should not have had a name.

"Did you feel sorry for her?" was all she could say.

"No. It was she who beat me to it. She kissed me on the lips and caressed my mangled flesh, out of pity. I would not have been free of my shame, had I kept her. Her presence would have reminded me of my face, my failure, every day."

Oscar nodded, remembering Erik's trembling beneath her touch. She'd rather be hated than pitied. Being an object of such emotion meant the loss of dignity, a humiliating fall.

"That makes sense," she said, with an apologetic smile. "I was wrong about what I said earlier. At least, you took your chance with love, which is more than I can say about my life. I just felt angry with her for putting you through the emotions that I do not want to live."

"You feel protective of me?" he asked, half amused and half baffled.

"Of course, you are my friend."

"You forget I am also your captor."

"I am perfectly aware of that, but I must protect you as long as I remain your friend."

"In that case, preserve your strength. Go to sleep. It is late," he murmured softly, sealing his command with a gentle kiss on the lips. Only when he was certain that she was asleep, he continued. "My beautiful Oscar."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

A month of captivity, and Oscar still had no idea what was happening outside. Erik hadn't changed his mind about denying her any such information, and she found this secrecy somewhat comforting because it enabled her to deduce that her immediate release was not in his mind.

Since the night when they shared intimacy in complete darkness, she could feel a different colouring to his music. Something akin to expressions of blissful joy had crept into his play, even though such phrases were quickly succeeded by sadness and rage that were never free from his composition. She wanted to flatter herself that she had been the cause of that little transition. Yet, she still could not quite bring herself to believe that what they were having together would last for more than just a few months. She could not convince herself that she was destined to live something other than solitary existence. There was hope, however, growing slowly but stubbornly in her heart. It grew with the fierceness of his embrace during the night and the gentleness of his touch during the day.

His back turned against the door, Erik's long fingers moved busily over the sheets of music scattered around his large writing desk. For the past hour, he had been composing music for Oscar, leaving her to practice her steps. Had he allowed her to spend her time as she would have liked, she would have been spending every waking moment training. It both amused and unnerved him how persistent and determined she could be. It would not be long before she completed the first step to become his shadow.

That thought made him uneasy, even as his heart felt pride and affection. He loved seeing Oscar delighted, and there were things he would offer to achieve that very end. The problem, however, remained that there were limits to what he could give. The quicker she mastered the challenges he had and intended to set for her, the sooner he would reach the upper limit of his generosity. Not because he didn't want to give more, but because he couldn't. For the first time in his life, he was experiencing happiness. That troubled him. For Erik did not believe in lasting happiness. Even though he had stopped fighting his feelings for her, he remained suspicious of the alien sentiment that had been denied for so long.

He put the sheets he had been working on to one side, noticing how quiet his lair once again became. It was as though Oscar had left the place. The thought of not having her near him was not pleasant. As he contemplated how his home could do with the echo of her once careless footsteps, a familiar fragrance filled the air without the sound which used to accompany it. Without turning to meet her, he could sense the broad smile on her face.

"You have practiced well," he said as two proud arms managed to wrap themselves around him.

Clearing out the largest chamber in his lair didn't take much of Erik's time. The chamber was hardly ever used and mostly empty anyway. It was more of a nuisance to decide where he was going to hide the black coffin in his bedroom. Oscar's new play room was accessible only through his own bedroom, and he didn't welcome the prospect of her finding out exactly where he had been sleeping in his room. The idea of lying in a coffin seemed morbid even to himself at times, although his desire to turn his nightly rest into one more permanent could not be that different from the common desire for a relaxing slumber. In the end, he settled for sinking the coffin into the lake. Thankfully, he had the foresight to tell Oscar to stay in her room. Amid the noise of a heavy piece of wood as it scraped across stone floor and the loud splash that followed, she did not come out to see what he was up to. Nor did she pester him with uncomfortable questions afterwards.

"Am I allowed in there?" Oscar looked unsure, almost nervous, even as Erik gestured her into his room.

"It seems that way. Does it not?" he replied carelessly, as though he had never told her not to enter the room. "Unfortunately, this is the only route to your practice room."

Oscar entered into the darkest room of Erik's lair; there were no candlesticks or oil lamps. With the only light coming from the hall through the narrow doorway, it was difficult to make out how the interior looked or what he kept here. It had, however, only a few pieces of furniture in it, a bed conspicuously lacking from the list.

"Stay to the left side until you reach the corner," he instructed, having already reached that point.

As she stood next to him, she saw Erik lifting up a black velvet drape that hung loose from above. Her heart began to beat fast. She saw an empty space surrounded by jagged stone walls emerging silently as she followed him through a narrow gap. The space was as big as the rest of his home put together. She could move about comfortably in this chamber.

"Words are not your strongest asset," he observed with good-humoured smile, after watching her unable to move or speak for a while.

Without warning, hands reached out to pull his head lower, resulting in a long, fierce kiss. By the time she released him from her tight hold, he was gasping for air.

"The room pleases you, then," he smiled, reluctantly pulling himself away from her. "Now prove to me that your sword is not for mere decoration."

Erik stood in the doorway, silently watching as Oscar fought with the invisible foes she had created in her mind. He had never seen her so beautiful and in her element. It was as though she was born for the art of sword-fighting. With her eyes closed and her mouth set resolute in concentration, she moved her sword with elegance and precision, anticipating the attack of the enemies with ease and confidence. Her steps were fluid and graceful--nothing at all like she used to walk, almost as though she were dancing. Erik could sense the enemies tired out and beaten by the parries and thrusts of the shining blade that she so effortlessly wielded. He knew then he would have been beaten too, had they fought in the daylight. The only thought that made the realisation less uncomfortable was that the sword was not his favourite weapon.

"You should have been born before the guns were ever invented," he said. There was no sarcasm in his voice. He could not imagine her looking so beautiful while pointing a gun at her imaginary targets.

"Guns are quicker and come across less personally," she replied, slowly opening her eyes. She was positively beaming.

Her breathing was steady, showing no sign of physical exhaustion. With one fluid motion, the blade slid into the metal scabbard, signalling the end of her favourite pastime. Like Erik, she knew that the sword would not be used much longer as a useful means of defence or attack.

The confident and strong Oscar he had just witnessed was nothing like the broken soldier he had picked up from the graveyard a month ago. Erik could not help wondering how much longer he could fool himself into thinking that she would be his prisoner as long as he liked. Nothing seemed to go as planned with his willing captive. He was falling faster for her than she would let him into her heart. She already held far more power over him than she ever realised. By expecting nothing from him, she made him give even more of himself.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was no expert in the game of love. He could not even understand the working of his own mind when it came to Oscar. His control of the situation was slipping away by the minute. Most troubling, however, was the thought that even love might not be enough to silence her desire for freedom in the long run. It would be simply too painful to see her eventually wanting a life where he had no place. Erik grimaced at the thought that he would have to let her go to truly win her; to convince her that there was nowhere else she'd rather be than at his side. Perhaps he could do with another walk. This time, however, he was going to visit Versailles.

* * *

A.N. L'Ankou, I hope having already seen a part of this chapter did not spoil it for you. Could you see where I made a change, following your advice? :D

Jackie, one of your predictions will come true in the next chapter. :)

Special thanks to dark-hearted rose for her wonderful editing and many thanks to those who have been reading and reviewing this fic.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

General Ferré became restless in his large bedroom, the size and appearance of which he had come to despise lately. His pretended illness was making him genuinely sick. His influence in the politics could not be exercised from his bed. No politician consulted him any longer since the papers had printed what he had led them to believe. It was now three weeks since he had become housebound, and there was still no sign of his son. What seemed to be a good idea turned out to be a bad one. France needed him. It was an important time for his country. Her imperial power must be renewed and reinforced in Africa and Oceania. The government must prepare itself to pass a law that should prohibit any kind of left-wing movement, and he must take care of the moderates who had opposed the heavy-handed approach against the Communards.

It frustrated him that he could not use his power and influence to initiate a large-scale search for his heir throughout the country. It was likely that Oscar managed to escape into the remote countryside where hardly any news of political affairs would reach. How else could he explain the utter lack of regard for his ill health on his son's part? Nevertheless, he could not rely on an active hunt as a means of getting his heir back. If Oscar were caught as a deserter, it would permanently ruin the reputation of his family. However impatient he grew, that was too much of a risk to take.

Being forced to play an invalid, he more often than usual recalled the joy and pride his son had brought him as a child. These were rare moments of happiness in his life where such emotion meant little importance. A bright, strong and obedient child, Oscar had been a dream for any father. He had never regretted his decision to raise Oscar as a boy. He understood his son's life would be more difficult than others; it would be a life of secrecy and loneliness. This was, however, the fate of anyone who strived to rise above others. Those who are destined to lead or achieve something extraordinary must bear such a burden. His son had enough strength to live the life that others would have found intolerable.

_He will come back, when he is ready. Soldiering is all that he knows. _

The thought that his son would take his time before returning home was not entirely comfortable, but he had had enough of faking sickness. There were too many things that required his active participation. Tomorrow, he told himself, he would get back to work.

The next morning, the General found himself disturbed over a bizarre dream. He had been talking to a disembodied voice which had called itself the _Angel of Death_. The voice itself was hauntingly beautiful enough to be described as an angel - if such things existed - and menacing enough to belong to the messenger of death. It had asked him what his intention would have been regarding Oscar, if ever his son had returned. When he had refused to answer, it had informed him that his heir had been in its care and could be returned to him after six months. He remembered agreeing to the condition of his son's return; he accepted the terms of the so-called _Angel of Death_ that he would let Oscar decide his own future.

It was ridiculous that he had such a dream at all. His son's uncharacteristic disobedience must have been stressing him out. Even in dreams, he never believed such things as life after death. He threw open the shutters to let the sunlight in. As he slowly turned back from the windows, he came to notice a folded paper on his writing desk. It read:

_I recommend that you would keep your bargain when the time comes. The Angel of Death has no qualms about taking lives, and yours makes no difference._

The General instantly tore up the paper into unrecognisable pieces. No one in their right mind dared to threaten him so bluntly. What a dangerous lunatic he was dealing with! It unnerved him to think that someone had been in his bedroom without alerting any guards who stood in front of his mansion and patrolled the garden day and night. The servants liked their sleep and were never reliable, but the guards were well trained and armed just to avoid incidents like this. Whoever held Oscar was clever, daring and dangerous. Yet, the General could detect the weakness of his invisible foe. The man had clearly developed a soft spot for his son. The condition of release spoke volumes. The _Angel of Death_ would not be able to take his life without making an enemy of Oscar; the threat against his life was empty. When Oscar returned, he would once again take full control over his son.

* * *

It was now completely dark, but Oscar was no longer alone on the bed. Erik had gone out once he had lit fresh candles and came back only sometime after the lights had been extinguished.

"Where have you been?"

She did not want to admit that she could not sleep while he was gone but could not entirely rid any trace of bitterness from her voice. She knew she had been spoiled by his company. She had no right to ask his whereabouts. It was none of her business if he took another lover.

"Out," he replied simply, feeling quite smug about the effects of his absence on her. "I wasn't with another lover, if that's what you are wondering."

"You know I wouldn't protest if that's what you did."

Erik's expression darkened. When was she ever going to admit to herself that he meant more than a friend and temporary lover? Was his gamble going to pay off? Would six months be enough to convince her that she belonged to him? It better had. He hadn't decided to give her a real choice just to suffer another rejection. What he hoped to achieve was to secure her in an indisputable manner.

He knew Oscar's father would not keep his word. It didn't matter. All he had to do was to rescue her from her father, who would not respect her decision. His death threat was merely a way of diverting the General's attention from the possibility of Oscar going missing once again. In order for his plan to work, however, she needed to believe in what they had together.

"No? Is that why you were grinning like an idiot when I told you I had not been warming someone else's bed?"

Oscar gave no answer, berating herself furiously in her silence. She should not have made her feelings so transparent. She had forgotten temporarily that he could see through darkness.

"For someone who has never been betrayed, you show exceptional caution in accepting emotional commitment. Tell me. What are you so afraid of?"

Oscar smiled even though his tone was cold, and she could sense him looking down on her with annoyance. It dawned on her for the first time that he desired her commitment just as much as she desired his.

"Are you telling me that we have a future, not just here and now?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Whether you would be happy here with me, away from the company of other humans. I have been to Versailles and told your father you would be returning in six months' time."

Oscar found herself unable to think straight. So many questions were forming inside her mind all at once. Were things finally returning to normal outside? Had he made a deal with her father? What kind of deal? Did he genuinely want a future with her? Her mouth felt dry, too dry to utter any intelligent sentence. The darkness that surrounded her was no longer comfortable. She wanted to see his eyes, to search for an answer that could instantly restore her faith in him.

"Do not underestimate my father. Whatever deal you made with him, he would rather not keep it," she finally spoke, this time making no attempt to conceal hostility.

She could not understand why she felt betrayed. She should be happy that he had given her the option of going back to the only profession she had known and been prepared for. It was the eventuality of such a future that held her back from believing in his feelings towards her. But nothing in the world above would be the same after André's death and her stay with Erik.

"The only condition of your release was for him to respect your wishes regarding your future," he replied evenly, although the implication of her words stung him.

"But why?" she asked wearily.

_Do you think it makes sense to me? Why should I risk losing the one thing that I care for? That's the irony of it all. I should have cared for you less. Now, I cannot keep you here permanently without knowing that you will choose me over whatever life you could have. It is no longer enough for me to have you next to me. I have to know that it is what you truly want. I have to prevent your coming to resent your stay here. _

"What I can give you here is nothing like the life you had before. You will dream of it sooner or later. Things are much calmer now outside, although the soldiers are still patrolling the city. You will not be issuing an order to execute civilians. There is really no reason why you should be hiding here except that I want to give us a chance. That's what the six months are for. After that, I want you to consider all your available options and make a choice."

Oscar knew then Erik would never belong to her. He would not follow her into her world. He wanted their relationship to be more than just _now_, but it would have to be always _here_. The only way that they could be together was for her to live in his world. She would need to make herself belong to him, forsaking all other possibilities of life. Erik was right. She could not make that decision and remain content without knowing that she was given a genuine choice. Even if she could, she still needed to tell her father about the decision face-to-face. She owed that much to the man who had created and shaped her life.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

A month had passed since Erik's little trip to Versailles. This Oscar knew, because she now counted how many days she had with him before facing her father and making a decision that would change their lives, for better or worse. Neither of them ever spoke of the eventuality of her release, but the thought never quite left them. It was heavy on her mind, and Erik could sense it from a feel of desperation in her touch during the night. She wouldn't let go of his hand till she fell into a deep sleep. That little gesture moved him because it indicated the strength of her desire to stay with him. Nevertheless, he could not fail to believe that it was also a sign of uncertainty; she did not yet know how she would choose.

During the day, there was a slight air of resignation and thoughtfulness in her manner, which she transformed into a determination to learn. Erik, of course, expected her to thrive on learning all things her body saw as challenging and was not astonished with her focus and willingness to practice any physical exercise he had set up for her. By now, she had learned to move with confidence and sense the presence of close objects in complete darkness. She had also learned to mimic the sounds of small animals, birds of prey, the wind, and a variety of footsteps –near, distant, soft, heavy, quickening and slowing. All this she had managed with the meagre length of time Erik had allocated for such training, which didn't last more than a couple of hours a day.

Erik never seemed to tire of watching Oscar. His gaze never left her while she was engaged in any type of physical activity, be it an exercise he gave or her daily practice of sword techniques. Even when he played music, drew pictures of Oscar, or engaged in other daily chores of underground living, he insisted on having her where he could observe her whenever he felt like it. The only time he left her by herself for longer than several minutes was during Nadir's weekly visits, and these were getting shorter each time as Erik was fast losing interest in outside events. Oscar found his constant stare touching because it reflected the intensity of his desire to be with her. However, she did not miss its underlying meaning; he would regard her as a lost cause if she did not choose life underground.

"Enjoying your new toy?"

Oscar lifted her head from a book at hand.

"You know I am not," she replied with a sigh, pushing the book aside.

"Considering how much you loathe the book, your progress is rather remarkable," he said, wondering whether she digested any of the content. "I would have thought you would rather read books on battles and wars."

"My father taught me about accounting and investment. It's not an entirely alien subject. It's just I didn't see much point at the time."

_You want to impress your father._ Erik thought with quiet resentment. To be fair, she had been voluntarily reading books on medicinal effects of herbs too, asking him what they looked like and where they could be purchased. This he could have accepted as an indication that she seriously contemplated the prospect of making his lair her permanent home. But Erik being Erik, pessimism often had stronger hold on him than optimism. There was also something else that had been bothering him. Since Oscar had been told that she was going to be released back into the outside world, she suffered from recurring nightmares. He could not find out what it was that so bothered her during her sleep because his priority lay in waking her up from the unpleasant dreams. He had hoped, however, that she would tell him about them.

"I believe you want to tell me about your dreams."

By now, she was used to his ever changing mood without provocation. She was not in the least bit puzzled by the dark undertone in his voice.

"I believe you are wrong," she responded calmly, fully aware of what effects her impudent reply could play on his already gloomy mood.

Erik made no reply. She could, however, feel something heavy and overpowering in the atmosphere. If a gaze could kill, Erik's certainly would. To her relief, he had not yet managed to learn that.

"You know your mood has been erratic ever since…"

Oscar elected not to finish the sentence. She knew she was treading a dangerous ground. There were many things unsaid between them, and perhaps they were best left alone. She only wished he had never told her his plan. It was difficult to live for the day, when forced to contemplate the future.

"I've been trying my best to please you, and you still manage to become cross with me," she said jadedly, hesitating for a moment before she continued. "What is worse is that you never explain."

A soft sigh. Erik's way of apology. She was willing to settle for that. But then, a hand settled under her chin, his unrelenting gaze boring into hers.

"You still haven't answered my question. You would answer it one way or another. You are still my prisoner."

The last sentence crushed any thought of unfairness or possibility of rebellion on her part. He would have to hear what, she suspected, would only upset him.

"You wouldn't like to hear it."

"Let me be the judge of that."

All her nightmares featured André. The places varied from a battlefield in a foreign country to a familiar street in Versailles. At times, it was an accident that claimed his life. Other times, it was his protectiveness that brought his end. But, in every dream, Oscar was the cause of his demise one way or another. Either he didn't see the danger in his eagerness to be reunited with her or he chose to place himself between her and a fatal threat. In each of her nightmares, she would not succeed in saving him. Her mind would scream for an action which would never come or come too late.

While Oscar talked with as much dignity and detachment as she could muster, Erik remained silent and motionless in the armchair opposite. Although she refused to look at him, she could sense that he was contemplating things, the nature of which was well-concealed behind his impassive face. Long after she finished speaking, he still had not uttered a word. It was late afternoon when he made her talk about the subject that she wished to avoid and he insisted on hearing, and the introspective silence lasted till late into the evening. It was there when they dined together and when he sought relief through music while she was left to the book which did not captivate. When it was finally broken, she was invited to a stroll.

Oscar walked behind Erik silently through the labyrinth that was an extension of his home. Neither of them had a lantern but their steps were sure and purposeful. She followed him through his scent, careful not to trip over any unexpected obstacles on the surface. In between his musing, Erik fleetingly admired her ability to keep up with him without difficulty in complete darkness that would have scared most people.

Erik turned around as he sensed Oscar suddenly stopping in her tracks. "What?"

"Why are you taking me outside?" Dread filled her mind, as they were nearing the very edge of his territory. "You said six months, and I still have five months. I know you weren't pleased with my dreams, but I am not yet ready."

"I am not releasing you. I just wanted to give you an opportunity to say Goodbye to André," he replied, mulling over the content and tone of her words.

She looked relieved before confusion set in. How could she say Goodbye to André when his soul resided in her body? Yet, the thought of visiting his grave and saying a few words to him seemed equally natural and comforting. Anger rose and spread inside her, igniting every corner of her being. She had been deluding herself. It was the need for comfort and desire to be free from a suffocating guilt that had led her to believe that André's soul had been united with hers. The prospect of going back to the world where he had been her constant strength forced her mind to revaluate the belief, leading to the nightmares where the guilt resurfaced and every attempt to change the past failed miserably. What the conscious mind tried to ignore, the unconscious psyche would not.

"There is no need. André is dead."

Erik did not miss the sharp bitterness in her tone.

"Why are you angry?" His voice was low, eerily calm.

"You just shattered my illusion that we somehow survived death. I wanted to believe that. I had to." Her voice was hoarse, almost breaking. "I know now that I have to live with what I have done. There is no escape from the past."

"An illusion has to die at some point, like everything else in this world. Our mind is obsessed with what could have been. When the past becomes too painful, we create comforting illusions to right the wrong, to change what could not be altered. But the past remains all the same."

Oscar tried to visualise the fatal scene in her final attempt to right the wrong. She saw that desperate face, pointing a pistol at her. Despite a scream inside her, she froze, yet again. She could not shoot. Failing that, she tried to push away André. He was too determined and heavy. She fell to the ground and knew it was all over. The finality of one short moment defeated her once and for all. It was no use to fight against what had already occurred. There was no hope for the past, only for the future.

"We can only change the future while living with our failings," she stated wistfully.

"We are alone and will always be. We can talk about our past endlessly, but I cannot exactly comprehend what it is that you have lost, because I never had what you once had. I had no one who belonged to me, who would follow me everywhere. You will never know what it is to gamble everything and lose, because you never risk rejection. We can, nevertheless, make it just a little bit better for each other. We can make our respective past slightly more bearable. We can be together while being alone."

He held her in his arms, and smiled as her arms encircled his waist tightly. They did not break the silent embrace for a long time. He felt her so close, closer than ever, in that stretch of time, and finally let himself believe that he had become more than a friend and passing lover to her.

"You seriously believed that we would survive death, even though you have no religion?" he asked, without releasing her from his hold.

"How do you know I do not have one?" Oscar could not recall having a conversation with Erik over religion.

"The way we make love is explicitly prohibited by the Church, even inside the wedlock. You showed no remorse afterwards." He felt relieved that he no longer needed to ask her questions in her sleep. He was happy with her trained voice if that made her comfortable. "In fact, you made me promise I would never treat you as a woman. If there were indeed a Hell after death, I would lay the blame for that particular sin on your door."

"You are most welcome to it. I would be happy to take any burden off your shoulder."

"You mean it, don't you?"

As Erik's lips brushed against hers, the feelings of happiness overtook him, meeting no resistance or suspicion, for once.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

They sat together silently, Erik leaning against the Pegasus statue and Oscar resting her head lightly on his shoulder. Feeling his comforting arm around her waist and warm breeze on the cheeks, her eyes greedily took in the haunting beauty of the night sky. She wondered whether the stars would look so beautiful in close proximity or were just other earths, full of suffering and cruelty. To find beauty is to find the right distance, not too far to lose the sight of the object that held it within, while not too close to touch the tumultuous current that hid underneath. She pondered whether Erik understood the secret of beauty and whether that was behind his insistence on keeping the mysterious outlook for the outside world.

_You seldom meet other people. Yet, you still want them to be in awe of you on the rare occasions you do._ _We are social animals, and none of us are free from the need to be recognised._ _Even when what others admire is merely our facade and pretence, we cannot entirely rid ourselves of that primal desire. If we are doomed to be lonely, with or without others, most of us choose to be alone within a group; because that's the way we are born. Even the lowest member would rather stay in the group and put up with abuse than become an outcast. How you have chosen and lived solitude without going insane I will never understand. But I admire your pride and strength. Your beauty is like no other I have come across._

"What are you thinking?" Oscar asked, resting her head on his chest, close to his heartbeat.

"It is the same sky that I've seen many times before. Yet, it feels different when you are… next to me. It is still magnificent, but I do not envy its void of feelings half as much."

She smiled at his words and pressed her ear against his chest to feel the beat that mattered to her more than her own. The soft feel of his voice still lingered in the air, mixing with the steady beat.

"I am glad that you are alive; that you can feel and want to feel."

"There were moments in my life when I wished I would be no more."

She looked up, expecting him to continue. Erik, however, stopped talking, his eyes peering into a distant memory, a place where he did not wish to return. She could sense a flicker of fear and anger in his stare that passed straight through her.

"You only ever hint at your past. You don't tell me painful memories in any detail because you do not want to lose my respect," she reflected quietly. "You fear that I might pity you."

"I can deal with hate," he murmured gently. "It is pity that drives me into madness."

"So, it is your insane pride that is the cause of much of your misery. More so than the cruelty and insensitivity of the world that hurt you. But what a pride it is. It has transformed suffering and fear into a magnificent beauty that is you."

It was not often Erik was lost for words, and he was on this occasion. Oscar found the look of shock and disbelief on his face priceless. She knew he was human after all.

"Have I heard you correctly? It's not my music that is beautiful. Did you describe me as beautiful?"

"Do not tell me that you had no idea. Surely, you would not have developed your proud, commanding, yet elegant and poised countenance by accident. You know you look and sound beautiful. You shaped yourself so."

"And I thought my music did the trick."

His laugh was low but warm, like the August night air that surrounded them.

"You have no idea, Oscar. There were so many occasions that I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked. It was killing me not to be able to tell you that. I feared you would treat it as a feminine attribute. Yet, you use it against me with such ease."

He held her in his gaze with such intensity that she could feel the heat rising in the air. She still found it difficult to understand how he could make her emotions change so drastically from restful contentment to an aching desire for him with just one look or one touch.

"There is so much passion in you that I don't know how you live with it. I don't think I could. Yet, you keep all that so carefully wrapped up inside you."

Erik lowered her gently to the ground, watching the moonlight playing on her features. A few layers of blankets were not enough to make them feel comfortable lying for a long period on the hard surface of the roof top. But her new position offered the best view of the night sky.

"Now turn your gaze to the stars," he commanded. "As much as I want to be the sole object of your attention, I promised you that I would let you see what you have longed for, for months. We are not going to stay here all night."

She returned her gaze to the distant stars, accepting his arm as a pillow. Time passed leisurely in their shared silence. Erik loved peaceful moments like this. He loved the feeling of being together; being with someone without struggle, without pretence.

"Erik."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"You've hardly ever gone anywhere since you've had me in your home. You must have missed this sight, too."

A gentle squeeze on her shoulder betrayed his appreciation of her words.

"You shouldn't thank me. I did it for selfish reasons. I made you my captive and confined you within the walls of my lair. I would have kidnapped you if you didn't agree to come with me."

"I would have become suspicious if you had said that you wanted me to stay in your home out of kindness," she said smilingly. "If you had tried to kidnap me, you would have had a hell of a fight on your hands."

"That I know now. But the end result would have been the same. Only, I would have ended up with a very difficult prisoner."

"I wouldn't be so confident if I were you. I might just have beaten you, considering how you underestimated my ability. You probably thought I couldn't even hold my sword properly. Wait. You are blocking my view, and I am not comfortable without my pil..."

While Erik's lips silenced her, she could only marvel at the speed with which his hands moved, placing hers above the head and binding them by rope.

"You shouldn't be so presumptuous. Assassins do not fight clean," he whispered hotly, savouring the look of amazement on her face.

Oscar's head began to spin with the all-consuming heat he was generating. It was a kind of heat that made her forget that she had not yet proved her point while he already had.

As his hands moved down to unbutton her shirt, she could only speak with uneven breath.

"Erik."

He threw a curious glance at her, before trailing light, teasing kisses on her neck and bare shoulder. Only a few moments after Erik turned his gaze back to her, she gained enough composure to speak again.

"You should have tied my hands behind my back. Soldiers in battle know how to fight dirty."

Erik smiled at her words. She would not fight back because she could not even half succeed without causing him serious pain. Still, she had to point that out to him. Oscar did not like defeat. The little half-smile across her lips and semi-triumphant expression in her eyes, however, would not help her cause.

"You underestimate the monster behind the mask," Erik whispered, his hands hovering just above her in contemplation, making her ponder his next move.

His lips returned to her neck and shoulder, planting kisses that would turn into bruises. At the same time, the slender fingers ran over her body, evoking every sensation he knew his touch was capable of arousing in her, till she was reduced to a whimpering wreck. As his lips finally left her form to catch a breath, Oscar's hopeless whimpers turned into a desperate plea.

"Erik, please stop if you are not going to take me here and now. I am not sure how much more I can take."

Untying the rope that had rendered her helpless, he murmured softly into her ear. "A soldier should know when the battle is lost."

Satisfied with her apologetic smile, he rose to his feet and gathered the blankets in his arms. Before he could straighten himself, he felt something sharp lightly touching the collar of his shirt. The tip of a shining blade lingered there for a while before slowly moving downwards and slicing it open on the way, without leaving even a scratch on what lay underneath.

"An assassin should not release its prey so carelessly."


	19. Chapter 19

A.N. Dark-hearted Rose kindly checked and sent this chapter back to me before the start of her holiday. :) This is another fun chapter and, according to my beta, justifies M rating. Looking back, I think my previous fic, Quest of Heart, could have got away with T rating. Anyway, enough babbling from me. Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chapter Nineteen

As Erik's amused look turned into mocking helplessness, Oscar had a sneaky feeling that her victory wasn't going to last long.

"Now that I am completely at your mercy, what would you do with me?"

That teasing, melodic voice did nothing to help her savour the moment of triumph.

"A simple admission. That's all I want."

"That I can give."

She looked up suspiciously, and her suspicion was well-founded. A gust of wind swept around her features, its sheer force blinding her to the surroundings momentarily. By the time she had recovered her senses, he was already behind her, holding her wrists with an iron grip. His lips brushed her ear softly as he whispered, "Nice try. A shame that I never learned how to be a graceful loser."

If Oscar hated defeat, she knew when to admit it. He could have kidnapped her without much difficulty, had he wanted or needed it. But there was something else that caught her attention. Erik was telling her the truth when he said he didn't know how to lose gracefully. With anyone else, she would interpret such inability only as a fault in character. Yet, she could not bring herself to denounce it. In Erik, strength and weakness were woven together so closely that it was difficult to see any trait of him as either. If there was one thing that she could give him, it was accepting him as he was, without criticism, without a desire for change.

Hopelessly trapped in his tight grip, she thought just how much she wanted to be held that way. She reflected how he had easily broken the barrier and tamed her through acceptance without judgment. Before she realised what had been happening, he had filled much of the dreadful void André's death left in her. Freedom without him would only bring unbearable emptiness.

_Don't let me go._ _I don't care if you want me as your prisoner for the rest of your life. I don't mind if you could beat me in everything. Just don't make me choose between you and my father._

Slowly, she let her sword drop to the ground. Erik acknowledged her gesture by turning her towards him, wrapping her securely with his arms.

"You know what you just did was not considerate. You could have let me win just once," she said with a weary smile.

"And risk you accusing me of patronising you? Does it really pain you to know that you could not have beaten me? It shouldn't. You had been trained to fight ordinary humans. Whatever I am, 'ordinary' I am not."

Oscar could sense a tinge of sadness in his proud voice. It made her wonder whether his somewhat inhuman power was also linked to his deformity. Would he trade off all his extraordinary abilities for a perfect face – a face he always dreamed of?

"Have you ever wanted an ordinary life?"

"I thought I did. Looking back, I was just tired. What I actually wanted was a peaceful life. I have a glimpse of that life when I am with you. I wonder…" He paused briefly to plant a soft kiss on her forehead before continuing. "Whether you can accept me, all of me."

She knew Erik would never be able to accept a part of him that he held responsible for so much of his misery. Nevertheless, she had given him what only his music could – she had been able to make him forget his curse for a while. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would one day learn to look into the mirror without feeling the urge to break it into pieces.

"I already have." There was no uncertainty in her voice.

"You still do not know a lot of things about me."

"We do not have to know to accept. It is a matter of heart, not reason. But if you believe the contrary, tell me the things that you think I must know to accept you."

Erik knew her logic was slightly flawed. Knowledge could affect feelings. But the observation felt trivial. The quiet conviction in her eyes carried enough weight for the sincerity of her declaration. An involuntary smile broke out across his face. He would probably never find out whether she could accept all of him because he had no intention of revealing to her every demon that haunted him. It was enough for him that she accepted without fear, without judgement, knowing what he had so far disclosed.

"Then, I hope you will choose to be where you truly belong, when the time comes," he said, slowly raising one hand to caress her smooth cheek. There were still a few warm summer nights left for them to enjoy the peace and tranquillity this place could offer. It was time to take her home. It would be a long journey back. "Take one more look at the sky. We must be going."

As they descended down the long stairs leading to the ground, the building was eerily silent. The music had deserted the stage by now and all the bustling activities in the theatre with it. She wondered whether this was the place where Erik's opera had been performed and whether he would ever write anything like that again. Only when they were well into the safety of the maze, she broke the silence that made easier keeping up with his pace.

"Was that the only opera you wrote? The one you wrote for Christine."

Erik stopped in his tracks before resuming his walk. Oscar could sense tension for one short moment.

"There would have been no point in writing anything else after she revealed my face to the whole audience, that included many critics and reporters," came back the somewhat bitter reply. "I was mad enough to try it then. Mad enough to bully the fools into putting the piece on the stage and go along with a trap they set up to catch me. It will not be repeated."

"Because you don't want to attract any unwanted attention to your existence?"

"The Opera Ghost is dead and forgotten to the world. I do not wish to resurrect it."

Only after the words left his lips, Erik realised that he had not told her about his phantom days. Unfortunately, she was in an inquisitive mood. Gone were the days when Oscar refrained from asking any questions about his life. Ironically, it was him who encouraged her to show interest in it. Then again, he reserved the right to make selective answers.

"Was it one of many professions of yours?"

He let out a little sigh before making a reply. "No more questions till we get back home. I have set up many more traps in this particular route since that night. You better concentrate on watching where I am going and follow me closely."

Back in the comfort of the bedroom, Oscar's questions were unanswered, or rather forgotten. She was astonished to find that he began to light all the candles in the bedroom after telling her to undress and lay on the bed. She was by now used to making love in complete darkness. Erik sat down next to her naked form, still fully clothed. As he studied her expression, the trust in her eyes moved and resolved a few stubborn, lingering doubts. If she could entrust him with her nakedness, then so could he.

"I wanted it to be this way tonight," he whispered before taking off his mask and placing it on the bedside table.

If he was going to allow her to see the monster behind the mask, he wanted the process to be as unceremonious as possible. Her eyes widened with surprise. The mask had always been the last item of clothing to be removed, and only then in complete darkness. She remembered the tension when she touched his misshapen face for the first time. It was that moment she had realised how sensitive he really was behind the guise of cool indifference. A wide grin crossed her face. Erik found the expression pleasing and could see himself smiling through the reflection in her eyes.

"Is it how you imagined?" he asked, his one hand removing his cloak and the other deftly caressing her body he knew so well.

She could only manage to nod her answer, as his touch had set her drowning in desire. All the coherent thoughts banished the moment his lips touched her neck to begin a long trail of soft kisses to the shoulder line. He would only stop the assault on the delicate skin to look at her face and let her briefly caress his own. Most of the time, her fingers were tightly entwined in his silky hair. Between the blinding sensations and whimpers of desire, she fleetingly wondered why he had not yet freed himself from his clothes. But no protest would come out as words because she understood he must be feeling vulnerable without his mask and needed to be in full control.

Only when he was convinced that he could not maintain his composure, he allowed her to plant a kiss on his neck and chest before giving her a long, passionate kiss.

"Now?" he asked, trying to calm his breathing.

Another nod and the look of abandonment in her face earned her the release she desperately needed. Erik finally turned her onto her stomach and positioned himself above her legs, opening his garment just enough to enter her. Oscar raised her hips up to meet him and was instantly rewarded with the hard impact she had been craving for. As he moved quicker and penetrated deeper, she pressed herself closely against him, the yearning for complete submission growing stronger with each relentless thrust. In the midst of intense pleasure and thirst, she somehow grasped that she no longer just wanted to surrender to the primal desire to abandon self.

She wanted to succumb to Erik's every will and need.


	20. Chapter 20

A.N. Special thanks to dark-hearted rose for getting back to me with the chapter as early as she can. She does a wonderful job with editing. Hope you had a lovely holiday, rose. The story is now heading towards a conclusion. A big thank you, as always, to those who have stayed with the story and supported me throughout. Please continue to read and review. It means a lot to me.

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Long after their breathing resumed a state of normality, Oscar could still feel his gaze upon her. It did not ease her secret longing.

"So beautiful… and mine," he whispered, greedily absorbing the look of adoration and warmth in her eyes.

"I have an insane desire to be just that," she whispered back. "I am beginning to be frightened of myself. It isn't exactly a healthy desire, wanting to lose control and trust someone else with it. The consequence could be devastating."

After regarding her thoughtfully for a short while, Erik commented, "I thought you were used to submitting yourself to others' wishes. Your father, the army, and then me. I didn't think any less of you for it. I couldn't."

"The difference is that my previous acts of submission were out of duty, not desire. It was _I_ who accepted them as such, and remained control. And it is _I_ who is in danger at the moment."

"You are in no more danger now than you were when you allowed yourself to be my captive. Besides, it is not your fault. I can create that effect on people. The only difference between you and others is that I don't need any manipulation to achieve it."

"So, it is my fault, then."

Erik's lips silenced her protest for a moment, giving a little helping hand to the insane desire of hers. If she was determined to talk herself out of the changes that he found so pleasing, he was not going to make it easy for her.

"Do not fight it. I promise there will be no nasty surprises. I cannot afford losing you. Not now."

Through the clouds of desire, her fingers traced his face. It shone with pride in the glowing candle light, and a sense of dignity veiled the sharp contrast. Palming the twisted and angry flesh, she thought of his struggle, how he had fought to rise above the inevitability of self-hatred and despair; how he had tried to become something more than an object of hostility and pity. She could not, however, imagine him ever wanting to abandon his freedom, to let someone else decide his fate. His uncompromising pride had undoubtedly made his life much harder to bear. Yet, he was so much more beautiful for it.

"You will never allow yourself to endorse a desire to succumb to another's will. How you must despise me," she said wearily.

"You are wrong. I have exploited and loathed it in others. But I have yet to find anything in you that I can bring myself to despise."

With a resigned smile, she reached out and pushed him onto the bed. Her lips trailed down his neck and lingered a while just below the collarbone, suckling the relatively delicate area of skin. Erik's eyes widened with disbelief. She had never dared to leave bruises on him before. Not deliberately, anyway.

"You captivate and mesmerise my thoughts and feelings. Your power can so easily become enslaving. But now that I have seen your face – that I have held the secret of your power in my gaze, it means that you are mine just as much as I am yours. I refuse to share you with anyone. Not now."

The insolent nature of the declaration went without raising an alarm in his mind. Oscar's resolute eyes were met by a contemplative stare, which soon melted into soft laughter.

"I can live with that."

His possessive arms embraced her once again, his lips descending down to claim hers. As he turned her over to land his palms purposefully on her firm buttocks, the overwhelming desire to fill herself with his being had returned to her. It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

* * *

August could have been a better month for General Ferré. Unfortunately, his recovery from illness did not grant him what he had hoped for – the new height of political power and influence. Although his long-term political ally Lafargue continued to enjoy popularity with the electorate and play a central role in Theirs' administration, he no longer felt that the government needed the absolute support of the military in peace time. The military was far too successful in oppressing the Communards; any more armed insurgency against the democratically elected government was unlikely in the near future. In addition, France needed to rebuild herself before actively pursuing imperial expansionism. As a result, the government simply wanted their influence held at bay for a while. As the Minister of Defence, Lafargue had been accused of ordering the massacre that took place during the bloody week immediately after the defeat of the Commune. He could not afford confirming such a suspicion, thereby offending moderate left-wing Republicans, by keeping his cosy relationship with the General who had overall responsibility for liberating Paris from the tyranny of the Communards.

The fact that several influential loyalists held a grudge against the General did not help his cause. Although they foolhardily supported the bloody oppression against the Communards, they were now eager to see his downfall. The loyalists who lost their family members during the reign of the Commune, either through execution or at the hands of an unruly mob, placed part of the blame for their loss on the General, due to his absolute refusal in the past to negotiate the terms of a prisoner exchange with the Commune. It was true that Lafargue also adopted this approach, but he was too strong for now. His time would come later. Their hostility, therefore, was mainly focused on the aging General. Since the government needed the support of moderate loyalists, Lafargue quickly realised the inconvenience of keeping his former ally close to his circle.

The only comfort he felt in the unpleasant political climate was that the dominance of loyalists in the National Assembly would eventually come to an end. Their choice of a future monarch was hopelessly flawed. The Comte de Chambord would not part with his misguided pride and was determined to change the colour of the national flag, effectively ending any realistic chance of restoring the monarchy. The political tide would turn, and he would eventually resume his powerful influence on the government policies. In the meantime, however, he was forced to suffer the indignation of being sidelined in politics. With Oscar's return not immanent, it was hard not to reflect on the injustice of the situation he found himself in. As a result, his mood was rarely cheerful these days. Even the promised return of his son was clouded with doubts. His heir's dangerous captor could always break his promise. It also troubled him to think about how much this man knew about the secret of his son. It would be helpful to have another meeting either to silence the fiend forever or to determine his usefulness in Oscar's future. Regrettably, any such meeting could not be initiated on his own terms or according to his time schedule. The waiting games and the uncertainty of the immediate future were beginning to dampen even his iron spirit.

* * *

Erik was sleeping soundly in his accustomed position, an arm draping over Oscar and his chest pressed against her back. It was unusual that she was awake while he slept, and she smiled at the feel of possessiveness even in his slumber. She knew not the events of the outside world, enveloped in the safety of her prison, her sanctuary. But even in the moments of contentment, she was not free from the knowledge that he would return her to the world above in three months time. The inevitability of having to make an awkward choice was not forgotten. A lone, quiet sigh escaped her lips at the thought of letting down her father.

_Is it inevitable, though?_ She wondered silently. _Must I become a cause of resentment to my father?_

The General had given her a life that no other father could, however frightened she had been of it at times. Her uneasiness over that life was merely a weakness of hers. He was not to blame. It was a life that was still better than those of her sisters. The occasional glimpse of the female world made her feel suffocated. She was glad that she had not been a part of it. She had to be grateful to her father for condemning her to a different life. Making a conscious decision to leave behind everything he had trusted her with felt like an act of downright betrayal. True, she had run away from it when André had died. But the circumstances were different, then.

She could not desire a life without Erik. That much, she was convinced. It was too late for wanting the contrary. Besides, he had rescued her from a life as a deserter – a life on the constant run, fearing the uncertainty of each and every day. His motive had been undoubtedly selfish, but then that equally applied to her father's. Debt wise, she was no freer from him than from her father. This should have made things easier for her to decide. Yet, she could not stop from searching for a solution that would liberate her from the burden of having to be disloyal.

She was trapped in a fruitless endeavour, for Erik would probably not accept anything less than her total commitment. _Except…_ Her mind contemplated his talent for music. Would his love for music be great enough for him to consider a compromise? It was her last hope, even though a part of her wanted it to be denied. Her father might be ruthless at times, but was a practical man. The proposal she had just come up with would be acceptable to him. She could not, however, predict Erik's reaction to the scheme. Even as she dreaded mentioning it, she knew that she had to try it before the end of her captivity. If she was going to live with another guilty failing for the rest of her life, she had to know that such an outcome could not have been avoided.


	21. Chapter 21

A.N. Here is the most important chapter in this fic. Yes, we've reached the climax stage. :) Hope you are all going to enjoy this. Special thanks, as always, to dark-hearted rose and everyone who has supported me throughout with this fic. I couldn't have come this far without the encouragement from you guys.

* * *

Chapter Twenty One

It was now nearly the end of October, and Oscar was finally allowed to read a paper that Nadir had brought with him on his last call. Erik still let the weekly visits happen, if for no other reason than to keep an eye on the Persian while putting the latter's mind at ease. He hated the prospect of justifying Oscar's presence in his home to his loyal but at-times-meddlesome friend who would have never believed him helping anyone without an ulterior motive. As a result, Nadir was still blissfully unaware of her existence in Erik's life. This arrangement had been perfectly acceptable to her since she was never one to believe in widening the net of trust. She was, however, curious about the only man who was allowed to visit the lair.

"You trust him, don't you?" she asked casually, carefully setting up the table, the only activity Erik trusted her with in the kitchen, apart from slicing bread and peeling fruits.

"Whom do I owe that rare pleasure to?" He knew whom she was referring to. Still, her assuming so bemused him.

"You know whom. You would not otherwise have let him live when he paid you an unexpected visit. Umm, that soufflé smells gorgeous."

"It will taste even better," he smiled, dishing out the meal he had prepared. "As for your question, trust is not a simple matter of yes or no. I do trust him to a certain extent, however. He saved my life by telling me what the Shah had in store for me after the building construction had completed and giving me the name of a few palace guards who were susceptible to a bribe."

"He followed you to France," she observed, after taking a few delightful bites.

"It was too dangerous for him to stay in Persia. The Shah would have found out he was the last to speak with me before I disappeared from his grasp. Besides, he was getting tired of making a list of people to be killed and tortured. I packed and sneaked out enough treasure from that cursed land to set us both up comfortably for life."

A contemplative pause settled between them, till they emptied their plates.

"What is his name?"

"Nadir. Why do you ask?"

"He saved your life. The least I could do is to remember his name," she said, nervously pondering whether the time was right for the proposal that she had been afraid of making known to him for a whole month. "Why did you not ask him to simply buy the opera house on your behalf? You could have run it anyway you liked. They could have performed your opera every night."

"For one thing, I hadn't written an opera by that time. It only occurred to me later on that I could suggest improvements on what they performed above my home. In any case, Nadir had to keep a low profile. Even now, his accommodation is not luxurious. A rich Persian would have attracted much talk and made it easy for the Shah to track him down," he replied, speculating on why she looked rather nervous.

"If I tell my father that I will respect his guidance on my future and go back to the army, I can secure enough funds to buy the building. It will be bought in my name, but yours to run. Nadir can play the manager for the outside world."

"No," came a sharp, bitter reply. "You will do no such thing."

"It doesn't mean that I cannot find a way to come and see you often. I can insist that I will not accept any overseas posts during the peace time." She put up a protest, even though she was already half-defeated.

"I said _No_. Any further discussion on this matter is closed."

October rain was cold and heavy. Erik roamed the murky streets of Paris alone, not caring how long he had been out. The cleansing and purifying effect of the rain was lost in his cheerless mood. He felt neither relief nor regret from the thought of the concerned Oscar. The rain had penetrated into the last layer of clothing, but even the icy chill his body was protesting against did not matter enough to take him to the realms of rational thought – dry clothes, warm bed, and the undeniable power of his hold on her. He knew he was probably over-reacting, but could not help feeling dismayed by Oscar's proposal. A harsh laughter rang through the mainly deserted streets, briefly catching the attention of a few grumbling soldiers who patrolled the area and the Parisians who braved the weather.

Somewhere deep inside his mind, he suspected that her old life was not what she genuinely desired; that she merely tried for a solution that might benefit both him and her father. He could persuade her to forget the feeble attempt. He should make her see that it would not work. Yet, his pessimism had returned and became stronger, even as he now was certain of her love towards him. Perhaps love would never be enough. Even now, she could not commit herself to the safety and security of his underground home. His damning pride would be his downfall once again. He should not have underestimated the General's hold on Oscar; he should never have made the decision to return her to her father.

It was nearly early morning when he finally returned to where he left her, knowing she would not manage a moment's peace. It didn't comfort him to know that she had suffered as well, but he could not bring himself to forgive her yet. Her sleep-deprived eyes looked sad as he purposely ignored her greetings, proceeding to discard his wet clothing and dry himself.

"I have always suspected that you would not belong to me," she began quietly. "And you proved me right tonight. You would not follow me. It would be the end of us if I did not choose to stay here with you; if I did not choose to be where you want me to be."

Erik stood still for a moment, reflecting on her words and wrapping himself with a warm robe. He was still bitter, but his sullen silence was finally broken.

"Is it so wrong of me to want you to be at my side? I told you I would give you the freedom to make a choice. You need not try to buy off what would be yours."

"You have no idea how the idea of going back to life above the ground frightens me. But when you decided to give my freedom back, you also made me responsible for my actions, my decisions. I cannot choose merely by my desires."

"Go on," he said, seating himself next to her.

Despite his dark mood, he was willing to hear her out. He might as well, if it meant that the awkward discussion would never be repeated.

"I wanted to be strong for both you and my father. I didn't want him to think that his trust in me was misplaced. As for you, I thought maybe, just maybe, you would let me help you to prove your brilliance to the world."

Erik made no answer, and she supposed rightly that he would not change his mind, but tried one last attempt to push the solution that might be just acceptable to both men who had equal claims on her life. Taking his hands in hers and lifting them up for a closer look, she said as though musing to herself, "These hands that both destroy and create. They could offer so much more."

He did not remove his hands from her grasp, but remained quite untouched.

"You can live your life as you see fit. I will not go back on my words. But if you choose to resume your previous life, it will not be for my benefit," he muttered, his tone weary, yet conclusive.

After suffering his stubbornness for a torturous length of time, she had no option but to concede to the inevitable conclusion that there would be no happy resolution that would please both her father and Erik. The only option open to her was to follow her own desires. As she sensed his weight leaving the mattress, a blind panic stirred inside her. "Wait," her voice came out as desperate as her grip on his wrist. There would be no going back on what she was about to give away.

"I choose you," she whispered. A pang of guilt towards her father made her uneasy, but could not stop her from saying what Erik needed to hear. "I don't have to wait till the end of this year and go back to the world to make that decision. Since you informed me of your intention to free me, I have often thought about my options in the world above. I know now what I truly want. I will stay wherever you want me to be. I cannot bear losing you."

His gaze held unwavering conviction in her eyes for a long while. Erik felt tenderness spreading through his whole being, melting away any trace of resentment. Quietly, he returned to her side and held her face in his palms.

"No regrets?"

"No."

He knew then that she had become what he always wanted. She had finally crossed the illusive threshold; she belonged to him.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty Two

Watching him scribbling words down on a sheet of paper, Oscar tilts her head slightly to the side. Erik sensed the gesture, even as his fingers were busy and his eyes were focused on his writing. Without lifting his head, he stated, "You are wondering why I am using my left hand."

"Why are you?"

"A silly precaution because I will never get caught for writing this. Your father, however, will appreciate this letter. It saves him the trouble of making up your rescue story."

A frown of confusion clouded her face.

"You are still going to return me to my father? Why? I have already told you my decision. Why complicate things unnecessarily?"

"For one thing, I told him that I would do so. I will lose some of your respect if I do not keep my word," he replied impassively, handing the note over to her for a reaction.

"There is so much of it that you wouldn't notice much difference if you allowed that to happen," she protested before quickly glancing at the contents. "You want to make out that it was kidnapping for ransom? And, what is this? Fifty thousand francs? Is that all I'm worth? I have more funds than this meagre sum in my own bank accounts."

"Funds you have no access to before you make yourself visible in the world once again," Erik scoffed flippantly. "Both the reasons for your disappearance and conditions of your release should be believable. Fifty thousand francs will feed and shelter one hundred grown men for three months. It is a reasonable and respectable sum to demand. That letter, however unpalatable it is to your pride, will do the trick."

Oscar returned the note to him carelessly, tossing it onto the desk and getting away with just one sharp glare from him. Erik left her to brood a bit in the comfort of a large walnut settee. It did not particularly worry him to see her react with anxiety to his master plan.

"You told him that the only condition for my release was to respect my wishes," she commented after a while, hoping and not quite believing that she could dissuade him from carrying out his original plan.

"I told you that it was the only condition that I mentioned to him that night," he pushed aside her objection with ease. "I didn't inform him that it was the exclusive list."

Oscar bit her bottom lip, to prevent herself from lashing out at his uncaring words. The small motion was not lost on him. Erik left the desk to embrace her, where she could never be angry with him for long.

"You are questioning my judgement," he stated musingly. "Tell me what is troubling you. If you really do not want to go through with this, you don't have to."

"Even at the risk of losing some of my respect for you?" she asked mischievously, as she felt his arms tightening for assurance.

"You weren't showing much of it when you were upset. I prefer seeing you content. Now, I would like to hear why you were suddenly so fearful of the reunion with your father."

"It's not the reunion I dread," she said wistfully. "I thought that I ought to tell him my decision face-to-face, whatever it was. I believed that it was the only way to show him my respect and prove myself that I was no coward. But now I have finally made the choice, I have serious doubts concerning the wisdom of such a line of thinking. It's like giving him false hope only to see it crushed, knowing that there is nothing he can do to change the outcome. I cannot commit such cruelty."

He ran his fingers through her hair, which fell just below her well-defined chin, a length that she was willing to compromise for his sake. A surge of affection and tenderness went through his veins, an emotion he felt every time he looked at or touched her since she had made her final decision. Landing a light kiss on her forehead, he whispered with wonder which never failed to arise each time he reflected what she had made herself become. "You belong to me."

"One of us had to belong to the other," Oscar murmured, intoxicated by the feeling of softness that surrounded her. "I don't mind that it is me."

"You say that even when you had to give up so much for me, your profession, your freedom, your inheritance and your father's affection. You do not resent my stubbornness, my inflexibility."

"What I had or was promised in the world above does not give me peace. You do," she replied, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek. "As for freedom, I am only free next to you. I have had no fear with you, except that of losing you."

"I wish I could give you more than occasional outings," he said, looking into her smiling eyes. "You deserve more."

Oscar's eyes turned to the blazing flames in the fire place. She had no idea Erik had rarely used it before she came into his life. Even as she was used to frosty weather, she welcomed the warmth it provided during the winter months. His lair had everything she had expected of home and more. She would not desire to leave it without him except… She pondered whether it was too soon to make the request she had been meaning to make for the past month. His answer would give her a clear indication of how confident Erik was in her commitment.

"There is something you could do for me," she said, returning her gaze back to his emerald green eyes where she was happy to be lost. Her reflection seemed confident enough just as her voice. Encouraged by his smile, she continued. "Would you let me go back to my father and stay with him if he falls ill?"

Erik considered her request and found no cause for alarm. He didn't answer her immediately, however. Nursing her father in his final days could not be all that she desired apart from himself. He was keenly aware that he could not be everything to her, even though he was the one thing she desired the most. He had only left her with an option to forfeit everything else to prove her devotion. He had no regrets making the decision so hard for her. He had needed, rather yearned for, a confirmation of the true extent of her passion for him. He had to know that she was willing and happy to live wherever he wanted her to be; that she would rather be locked up in his underground home for the rest of her life than being anywhere else if it meant the only way to be with him. That she had made that sacrifice touched him deeply, and the feeling he felt towards her was like nothing else he had ever experienced. Never before, someone else's happiness mattered to him more than his own.

Now that he knew she would follow him everywhere, it didn't seem too bad to leave his home for a while. She was too young to spend the rest of her life underground. She needed a sense of achievement, a profession. She had not suffered enough of the cruelty of the world to genuinely appreciate life away from the prying eyes of a society. If the world rejected him once again, she would be only glad to come back with him to their sanctuary. His mind drifted to an option that he had rejected a long time ago, a fresh start away from Paris. They would probably be back in this place some day. It was the only place where they could remain their true selves. Perhaps they could even spend a few months here, each year, during their years of exile. As her stare began to show a sign of anxiousness, Erik's idle musing quickly turned into an impulsive resolve.

"If the illness is serious enough to warrant your distress, I will personally escort you to his bedside. I am not entirely heartless. Now," he paused, giving her time to savour the feeling of relief and preparing her for his next sentence, "how do you feel about living in England?"


	23. Chapter 23

A.N. This is the concluding chapter of _Erik's Prisoner_. Hope you will not be disappointed with the ending. Many thanks to darkhearted rose for helping me to make better this fic. She's always made me feel more comfortable about posting and has been a wonderful beta. And a big thank you to those who have been reading and reviewing. Your support meant a lot to me. :D

* * *

Chapter Twenty Three

Nadir's eyes narrowed to examine the young man seated in front of him. _Exquisite_. He thought with slight resentment. Such a pretty face was wasted on men. Yet, he could not help but feel that he was looking at the very cause of Erik's positive mood that had been almost surreal lately. Nadir felt his mouth dry, and a creeping sense of dull ache made its way into his chest. Nadir had never regarded Erik with sensual desire. He, however, prided himself in the fact that he was the only man with whom his reclusive friend ever bothered to communicate with some semblance of civility and trust. This young man's existence deprived him of even that meagre consolation in their ever one-sided relationship. And judging from the fact that he was finally introduced to his friend's mystery lover, he was about to be asked a favour regardless of his feelings for their relationship. It took him a while to realise the significance of the name Erik had announced.

"Oscar Ferré? Not the son of General Ferré, surely," Nadir said, throwing a deadly glance at Erik.

"It is entirely my own fault that you have been kept in the dark, Monsieur Khan," Oscar stepped in, with a charming smile stretching her full lips. "I have made Erik promise that he would not reveal my stay here to anyone. You cannot blame me for seeking my own safety. As his loyal and sensible friend, you would have tried to dissuade him from keeping me here."

"What is it that you want my help with?" Nadir asked wearily, half-heartedly inhaling the scent of his Persian tea.

Whatever he felt about the pretty officer, he had to admit that his friend's life had turned for the better. It was time to let go of his role as Erik's conscience and move on with his own life. But it was hard to keep a cheerful appearance when he had been forced to admit that Erik had found peace without his help.

"We are moving to England," Erik declared nonchalantly. "Oscar will need a new identity."

"That I can help with. May I enquire why England, among all the places?"

"Simple. Where would you suffer the least of the sun?"

"You do understand that love between men is less acceptable there."

Erik smiled at the irony of Nadir's remark. Oscar would probably never forgive him if he informed the inquisitive Persian of the truth.

"As far as I understand, the English only object to it when not being discreet. I have no desire to make public our relationship."

"You might need that," Nadir said, eyeing the heir of a formidable General with a sly smile. "Lieutenant Ferré could be recognised before boarding the ship to your chosen destination. It's a risk neither of you care to contemplate."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I advise that Lieutenant Ferré be disguised as your wife and remain as such till you safely arrive in England," Nadir said with as much serious tone as he could muster, trying to avoid the young man's gaze for fear of bursting into laughter. "I can produce two identities. One for a temporary use and the other for a more permanent one."

Erik worriedly watched Oscar's expressions. Her cheeks seemed to be burning with indignation, and he could feel the heat invading his space. They did, however, cool rapidly, releasing him from the need to intercept. When she finally spoke, there was no trace of uncomfortable feeling. Her eyes were laughing, finally finding humour in the situation.

"Though you seem to draw amusement from my plight, I have no doubt that your advice is given for my benefit, Monsieur Khan," she said, her cool gaze searching for Nadir's reaction. "While I would love to have the honour of playing Erik's bride, I am afraid time is against us. I do not think my voice or mannerisms would pass as those of a woman. Wouldn't it help my escape from France if I rather played his servant? As you are aware, no one pays much attention to the appearance of servants."

Nadir's mouth opened with incredulity. He had been expecting a display of outright hostility, which he had considered a fair price to pay for his little entertainment. He had underestimated the young officer. A little smile leisurely crossed his face. He was dealing with the heir of General Ferré, after all. Judging from his temperament, Erik would be in good hands.

"Oscar will not act as my servant. Nor will he pose as my wife for that matter. We will board a ship that will depart in the late evening. A little stage make-up should suffice for necessary precautions," Erik spoke his piece, bringing the uncomfortable subject to a closure with indisputable authority. "I appreciate your help, Nadir. But I advise you to show more respect for your business partner in future."

"My what?" the former police chief gasped, nearly choking on the tea he had been overindulging himself with.

"Your business partner. You are coming to England with us."

Nadir could not believe how it happened. By the time he had left Erik's lair, not only had he agreed to be the co-owner of an art gallery in London with Oscar but also volunteered to go to England first to find a suitable business location and an accommodation to his friend's particular taste. Grimly, he realised that he would never be free from Erik as long as his service was required. Even as this reflection somewhat troubled him, he was unable to suppress the sense of relief and joy that had crept into his vein. Even now, he had a role to play in Erik's life; his friend still needed him.

* * *

"Come here."

Oscar grinned at his words, putting down the book that she had been religiously reading for the past hour or two.

"If you keep interrupting my study, I will not be able to produce any profit for your investment," she put up the appearance of protest, seating herself next to him on the comfortable chaise longue.

"I am not going to invest that much. Besides, I will be the one who will choose the artists and paintings for the first six months. You will have more than enough time to learn the subject."

"Are you going to let us exhibit your paintings?"

"You can display any of mine, bearing in mind that my drawings of you are not for sale."

"Never?"

"Never."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling his strong arm encircling her waist. She could hear their soft breathing in perfect harmony, creating an atmosphere of serene contentment around them. Nothing other than their togetherness mattered in moments like this. Even their respective pasts melted into oblivion.

"Were you really not disappointed in my turning down Nadir's proposal? Did you not want to find out how awkward I would look in a dress?"

An impish smile crossed Erik's lips. The image of Oscar wrapped up in an evening dress and a silk gown felt almost surreal. He would be lying if he said that he never wanted to see the sight, not even once. But the figure trapped in feminine outfits would not be the same Oscar he had fallen in love with.

"Not in the least," he replied steadily, meeting her probing gaze squarely. "I would not let Nadir - or anyone else for that matter - have the pleasure of seeing the heir of General Ferré pursuing women's fashion. Your feelings are far more important than my curiosity."

"Is that why you rejected my suggestion, too?"

"I've never made a secret of my desire for your submission to my will. I still demand it and always will. However, that side of our relationship must remain private," he said reflectively, after planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. "In public, you will always be my equal. I will not let anyone look down on you in my presence."

Her quiet contemplative look turned into a delightful smile. At times, he seemed to know her better than even herself. She would always feel at home with him, wherever she was. Slowly, she took hold of his large hand, bringing it to her lips reverently before placing the cool palm lovingly on her cheek.

"You remind me of the _Moon Knight_," he whispered, his soft breath brushing the tip of her ear.

"The Moon Knight?" she asked, remembering one of his drawings, in which he wrapped her in shining armour. Her hair was longer, flowing gracefully in the wind. The soft moonlight showered her features, favouring her proud stature on the high horseback and leaving the surroundings in contrasting darkness.

"It's a mythical character although the origin is rather obscure. The knight was born between a king and the moon goddess. After the king's demise, the new king, his half brother, seeks his help to restore the former glory of his land and obtains it. The knight becomes a good friend and protector of the young sovereign. But his friend never finds out his secret."

"The secret sounds important to the story."

"It is. The knight turns into a beautiful lady during the full moon period. The king falls in love with her, never realising why his friend becomes curiously absent during this time of the month. He asks her hand in marriage, but she refuses the offer. In the end, he dies of a broken heart."

"You think that the woman in me might not have accepted you?" she asked, not knowing the answer herself.

"The female side of you is unwilling to come out, let alone to commit. I'm lucky that your male side is so pleasing," he replied playfully, watching a vague unease dissipating from her eyes. "Ultimately, however, your sex - be it biological or social convention - is of little importance to me. It's Oscar that I have fallen for."

Erik smiled at the unreservedness of her embrace, the aching trust in her eyes and the sensual, quietly demanding lips. He could watch her endlessly and hold her without ever getting tired. He did not know how long they could live amongst men. It didn't matter. They would be together, no matter what the future held for them. He murmured into her slightly parted lips.

"You are perfect for me."


End file.
